Monsieur le Président
by TheClassof1832
Summary: The June Revolt has succeeded, and a familiar face is the head of state. You'll like it, I promise! Enj/OC and Enj/Courfeyrac friendship fic! Semi-AU. R&R! Enjolras inspired by Aaron Tveit (and a bit of Ramin Karimloo)!
1. Chapter 1

The insurgents placed a president, a head of state, in the _Palais-Royal_ on June 15th, 1832, now called the _Palais-Pré__sidentiel_. The once magnificent palace was simplified to a labyrinth of headquarters for _Sénateurs_, _Conseillers_, and members of _Le Cabinet du Président_, on the first floor. On the second floor was the new president's private study and living quarters; plain rooms with little decoration or color.

But the young president was a man of the people, having fought for them those seemingly distant days in early June, and intended to stay one.

"If I do not live like my fellow _ressortissants_," he had said as revolutionaries met, "how can they expect me to govern them justly?"

Though, the young president was not a favorite among the older members of the New National Convention. He was too wild, they claimed; that if another country, such as England, were to taunt them ever-so slightly, that young "_citoyen_ Enjolras" would declare war immediately.

To Enjolras' disappointment, however, everything became easy and peaceful. He was mostly visiting hospitals, parishes, and schools, witnessing the improvements set upon by himself and the other members of the New Republic. His friend Combeferre had brought about a new and astounding notion of "free healthcare", and with Enjolras' approval, old palaces from the July Monarchy, and the _ancien regime_, were being converted into hospitals; the best doctors from Paris and other major cities being sent to them. And older hospitals were being expanded; patients were now kept two-to-a-room, with a nurse to each. Combeferre himself had become the head physician in Paris, being called "Combeferre the Good" by the poor and rich alike.

Enjolras himself oversaw education, with assistance from Courfeyrac, who was quite exuberant when visiting upstart schools in small villages, run, most usually, by pretty young women. Enjolras chastised him every time they went, but the message didn't seem to sink in. Courfeyrac was a lover of many things, and most definitely an lover of women.

_Monsieur le Président_, however, was not. He had not a preference to either _grisette_ nor _bourgeoisie_, for to him, they did not exist. His mistress was Patria, and now, he found, he could serve her dutifully.

But boredom is never a good thing in the masculine mind, as Enjolras learned in mid-September. France was thriving; his job was merely a chore that was simple. He started retiring at eight; an odd time for a man who was used to staying up all hours, studying or writing. The skills which won him his seat weren't needed, and Enjolras wasn't sure what to do with himself.

He had tried consulting Combeferre; but the Good Doctor had grown much too busy to take time out of his day to help his friend. Enjolras took to talking long walks in an attempt to pass time, but he discovered he didn't get much joy from the task.

Finally feigning desperation, he went to Courfeyrac.

The _Secrétaire d'État_ was more than happy to help his dear friend.

"Enjolras, could you tell me the last time you went to a ballet or an opera?" He inquired.

"I'm afraid I could not."

"Ah! That is the problem, I suspect. You have denied yourself the treats of the culture you were born to for so long, that you lack the skill to find entertainment. _Don_ _Giovanni_ is playing tonight at the _Theatre-Francais_. The managers did promise you a box whenever you wished to have one. Why not take in an opera this evening, _mon_ _ami_?"

"Courfeyrac, I mustn't. There are still many citizens who could not affo-"

"And there are many citizens who can afford it and do not go. There you sit, Enjolras, with the money and opportunity to go, yet you refuse. Many people would gladly take your place. Be grateful, my friend." Courfeyrac stated.

"Would there be any other way for me to spend my time?" Enjolras asked hastily; he loathed operas, and did not want to spend the evening listening to people bellow at him in Italian.

"Well, there is one... But you will not like it."

"What is that?"

"Women." Courfeyrac was blunt with his words, answering his friend's question as if it were the simplest one in the world.

"Courfeyrac," Enjolras sighed. "Do you even how ridiculous that notion of my chasing women sounds? You are unbelievable, my friend. I must go. If I do not show up for my supper in ti-"

Just as Enjolras rose from his seat, the _Procureur général_, Marius Pontmercy, entered the room, holding a stack of papers. Enjolras knew what they contained; they were execution papers. Marius placed the papers down on the edge of Courfeyrac's desk, his signature along the line where he was supposed to sign.

"Are those for that no-good professor?" Enjolras inquired. Courfeyrac nodded as he dipped his favorite pen in a jar of cobalt colored ink.

"The very same." Courfeyrac's loopy, elegant handwriting marked the papers.

"Send them along as soon as you can. I'll enjoy signing them."

Courfeyrac entered Enjolras' study, holding the papers. Enjolras took them, reading over them before pulling out his favorite jar of red ink; one of his few indulgences he had allowed himself throughout the years. His scrawled writing looked pathetic next to the well-penned signatures of Courfeyrac and Marius, but his was the most important one. HIS was the one that made this document official.

The papers were returned to Marius to be taken to the prison for the "no-good professor" to hear before being executed. Then they would be read aloud to the crowds as he climbed the scaffolding. Enjolras had planned to attend the execution of the man, but had decided against it. Even though in the previous century, memories of Robespierre and the Reign of Terror echoed too loudly at things like that; his presence would just cause those thoughts to register even more.

"Enjolras?" Courfeyrac drew the young man from his thoughts as he entered. "I have reserved you a box at the theatre for tonight. Will you be attending?"

"Yes," Enjolras decided. "Some cultural indulgence won't ruin me in the eyes of the people, I suppose."

"Finally!" Jehan exclaimed, appearing behind Courfeyrac. "You will ADORE this opera! I am sure of it!"

* * *

**Hey look! I wrote a serious chapter! With Jehan! Yay!**

**So, here's a bit of an explanation:**

**I've been wanting to revisit the character of Jacqueline Duvall, from Apollo and Athena, for quite some time. And, I've been wanting to write a scenario where Enjolras' revolution succeeds, so... Ta da! Jackie will be appearing later, and be... Different from her original self. This is a new Jacqueline, FYI.**

**And I based the new government off of the US Gov't, because... Well, at the time, it was probably one of the few democracies out there, and the only true reference point. So yeah. **


	2. Chapter 2

**So glad to hear from all of you! And for those of you reading anonymously or afraid to review, I invite you to! I love reviews! And I try to reply to questions about my writing, so feel free to ask! **

**On my profile, I have links to the actors I picture when I write particular characters, and I also wrote a "Things I Am Not Allowed to Do in The Cafe Musain". Enjoy! **

* * *

Enjolras received word on the execution just as he was climbing into the cabriolet the theatre had sent him. It was Marius who delivered the news; stopping the president, grabbing him by the shoulder. The young man then launched into a detailed account of the execution.

"Duvall climbed the scaffolding, Enjolras, and when he was asked if he had any last words, he said, 'So, this is the monarchy you support? Your president is nothing more than a king!' And with that, he was dragged onto his knees and put in place. Then I imagine you can figure out the rest. His daughter, though, she made quite the scene. Screaming bloody murder until he died and crying like mad after." Marius took off his hat and joined Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Jehan in the cabriolet.

"So," Enjolras placed his hat in his lap, "you said there was a daughter there? I never knew-"

"Nor did I." Marius' face was solemn, for he knew what they all had done. They had taken a father away from a daughter. Perhaps a husband away from a wife.

"He deserved it," Courfeyrac grumbled. "He was nothing but a ripe, old-"

"Silence, Courfeyrac." Enjolras ordered gruffly. Grantaire gave a hearty chuckle, slapping his knee gaily.

"Ah, Courfeyrac. I do not think our noble leader wishes to hear more of M. Duvall's execution. He wishes to hear of the girl!"

Enjolras glared at Grantaire. Courfeyrac sniggered indignantly, still enjoying the chance make fun at the pure, saintly leader. The target of this jest spoke, his strong, baritenor voice causing silence in the cabriolet.

"You must not know me well, Grantaire. I would have no interest in the girl herself, but I am curious about her affairs; where she will be staying, how much of a fortune Duvall left her. Could any of you tell me of these things?" Enjolras inquired.

"I'm afraid Duvall left her nothing but a formerly good name that covers a bad fortune," Courfeyrac told him. "He left her nothing."

"I believe it's because of his late wife," Marius contemplated. "Duvall's wife was German. A dancer at the opera. He met her when he couldn't have been older than we ourselves. Their daughter together is nearly the spitting image of her, and after she died, Duvall blamed both his children. Even though the youngest resembled him."

"There is another child?"

"Yes. A very young boy. Twelve, I believe. Mlle. Duvall is twenty. She is now the only family the boy has; though I believe he was taken to an orphanage after Duvall was executed." Courfeyrac stated.

Enjolras hands began to tremble, and he stared at them as if they were drenched in blood. "I-I have killed. Not just the National Guard. That I can sleep at night contently with. But... I have killed a father, a widower, and a man who was only doing what we were doing months ago. Speaking about his beliefs, his convictions. Am I no better than the common monarch? Will I kill because I know it's the only solution, or to get rid of enemies; people who are different than I? Will the strength of my own personal convictions only carry me so far? For my convictions led me to to take away a man whom I only judged for his political-"

"Enough with the lecture," Grantaire muttered. "Your convictions never stopped you from condemning those who don't agree with them before."

* * *

"That president can rot for all I care," Jacqueline Duvall muttered, curled up in her father's old chair. "He can be drawn and quartered, fried in oil, and thrown into the Atlantic for all I care. That cursed man has taken away my life in just three months."

The maid strode into the sitting room, dusting tables off and humming a little tune.

"Mademoiselle, it won't serve you any good to just waste away in here. Go out. Visit the theatre while your father's box is still in our possession."

"I can't," Jacqueline sighed. "I am in mourning. Going to the theatre would be frowned upon."

Annabelle just clucked her tongue at the mourning girl.

"If I were you, I'd be in a rush to find a good husband. You're already twenty, my dear. The majority of your friends-"

"The majority of my friends haven't lost their fathers. I have. I couldn't dare to enjoy myself at the opera this evening."

Instead of agreeing, the maid grabbed Jacqueline's arm and led her upstairs, swearing that her mother would have hated seeing her pass up one more opportunity to go to the theatre. She dressed her in a lovely red gown and gave her a small gift, a box addressed to her from her father.

"He wanted to see you wear them at your wedding. I don't think it would be frowned upon if I give them to you them now, so you could wear them once." Annabelle stated.

Jacqueline opened the box and gingerly touched the pearl drop earrings and pearl necklace inside. She remembered her mother wearing the same earrings and necklace when she was alive. With Annabelle's help, she put on the necklace. It rested differently on her than it had her mother; when her mother had been alive, a fashionable woman's figure was natural. Now, fashionable women laced themselves into tight corsets, displaying tiny waists and making other parts of their anatomy equally stunning to the male population. So where the necklace had sat low on the late Mme. Duvall, it now sat relatively higher on her daughter.

The earrings, of course, stayed the same. Jacqueline's reflection surprised her; she thought her mother was looking back at her.

"Alright. Call for the carriage." Jacqueline ordered.

She arrived late to the theatre, but was let in by the box keeper, although the cross, old woman quietly muttered something about Jacqueline being a harlot.

Inside the box, a group of men sat; one of them highly inebriated, while the others were all sober and enjoying the opera.

"Excusez-moi?" She said in shock. One of the men turned. In the dark, she could only make out his light hair and strong face, though it wasn't recognizable.

"Mademoiselle? May I help you?" The man's voice was strong and unwavering. Jacqueline could've sworn she'd heard it before, but where, she didn't know.

"This... This is my box." She mumbled. The man rose from his seat.

"It isn't anymore. I'm sorry, Mademoiselle."

Jacqueline turned and walked out of the box in complete shock. Who was that man who was in her father's box? The box keeper sneered at her in disgust. The old woman had always been disagreeable, but she was being particularly nasty.

"You shouldn't be here anyway, harlot." The woman spat. "Go back to Montmartre where you belong."

And once her things were packed at home, that's where Jacqueline went.


	3. Chapter 3

**HI GUYS! What's up? I just got back from a birthday party, so I'm really s excited right now! This chapter is sometime in November/December, and Enjolras and Courfeyrac are out visiting the poor in Montmartre.**

* * *

The incident at the theatre and the execution of Duvall quickly became a distant memory as winter set in over France. Although only late November, the looming presence of December made the new government anxious to have their people ready for the cold months. Money was set aside for free blankets, food, clothes, and any other thing the people might need to survive the winter. Enjolras took the greatest concern for Montmartre, while Courfeyrac took the greatest interest in what it offered. And that is why the two departed for Montmartre together one morning.

Enjolras busied himself immediately; handing out fresh loaves of bread, warm blankets, and coats to anyone who wanted them. He made sure that mothers received the best of the shares, and tried to make the medium amount of supplies last for the crowd of people. Courfeyrac, however, was prowling the streets, looking for Lovely Ladies. He was rewarded with a small group of them, each seemingly pretty in the dark light.

Courfeyrac wasn't looking for himself, though. He was looking for Enjolras.

"Would any of you pretty little harlots like to keep a friend of mine warm this evening?" He asked with his signature devilish grin.

"Well, who would that friend be?" A brunette asked curiously, glaring at Courfeyrac the best she could. He liked her immediately, she still had strength and willpower; a good match for Enjolras.

"That man over there," Courfeyrac pointed to Enjolras. "Will you do it?"

The woman's eyes flashed furiously for a moment, but she regained a genteelness to her demeanor. Courfeyrac barely noticed her anger, and smiled as the woman pretended to admire Enjolras.

"What a handsome man! Why Monsieur! It would be no problem at all for me to keep him warm this evening," she winked at Courfeyrac, "if you wouldn't mind telling me who he is, of course."

"That is President Enjolras," Courfeyrac stated.

"I KNEW IT!" The woman shrieked.

She ran up to where Enjolras was, jumping him, screaming madly.

"MURDERER!" She cried as Courfeyrac pulled her off of the president. "LET GO OF ME! I WANT HIM TO SUFFER! JUST LIKE MY FATHER!"

Enjolras quickly retreated to the cabriolet that was waiting for him and Courfeyrac. As he was climbing in, Enjolras ordered, "Bring the girl."

Courfeyrac followed; dutifully bringing the girl with him. She sat in the bottom of the carriage, held in between Courfeyrac's knees. Enjolras lowered himself to her eye level.

"Who is your father?" He interrogated. The woman stayed silent for a moment before spitting in Enjolras' eye. Enjolras pulled back in shock, drawing a handkerchief from his waistcoat and wiping away the saliva. "Listen, Mademoiselle, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way," he growled.

"Yes, _Your Majesty_. I will tell you. I am Jacqueline Duvall. My father was-"

"I know just who your father was and I did not murder him. He dug his own grave." His views on Duvall were much different from that night in September. He saw Duvall's execution as a necessity. Enjolras' six months as president had turned him even colder than he had been before. His mercy was nonexistent. And Mlle. Duvall had just made herself a target of the cold, cruel president.

"You did kill him! And I'm glad you know who I am. Because when you are forced to walk the scaffolding by your own people, you will remember exactly what you did to my family." Jacqueline spat. "I hope you rot in Hell."

"Oh no, my dear, it is _you_ who will rot in Hell. I am loved by the people. Through their eyes, I am-"

"An egotistical maniac!" Jacqueline finished his sentence for him. Enjolras angrily wrenched her from the floor, gripping her arms tightly. Jacqueline could feel the bruises forming.

Enjolras smiled darkly, and chuckled. He stroked Jacqueline's cheek, watching her eyes widen in terror.

"I-I'm not afraid of you..." She mumbled.

"Mademoiselle, you are not in the situation to be brave and without fear. Submit to me, Mademoiselle Duvall, and I can save you, just like I did this country," Enjolras murmured in her ear. Jacqueline shoved him away, falling into Courfeyrac's lap.

"Never."

Enjolras' eyes flared in rage, but he contained himself.

"Fine. Courfeyrac, dispose of her."

"No!" Jacqueline screamed. "I... I was promised a night's work by M. Courfeyrac."

Enjolras absently waved his hand in dismissal. "Fine. Courfeyrac, if you would like to make use of Mlle. Duvall's... services, you m-"

"I wasn't buying her for me," Courfeyrac told him. "I bought her for you. She has the right attitude, the nerve, the energy. I thought she would be the best choice for you. And now I know I was right."

"How so, my friend?" Enjolras questioned.

"Seeing you two go back and forth, I realized that you two are of very similar nature. Neither of you is going to back down just because a greater power is telling you not to. Come, Enjolras, you must admit - you are curious about what a physical relationship contains. And Mlle. Duvall can sate that curiosity."

Jacqueline turned to Courfeyrac in horror. "You honestly expect me to sleep with him?"

"And...making love to Mlle. Duvall would go against my personal moral code. I couldn't da-"

"Well, you've been doing many things against your morals lately, Monsieur," Jacqueline muttered.

"Well then, Mlle. Duvall, I guess I will be requiring your services this evening, since you find me to be no more moral than your average fop," Enjolras informed her.

"It will be my pleasure," Jacqueline said through clenched teeth.

Enjolras placed a hand firmly on the back of her neck, and pulled her closer until their breath was mingling. Jacqueline opened her eyes for a moment.

"God save the president," she whispered. Enjolras smiled.

"God can't help me now."

* * *

**Whoo. I think it just got hot in here. Enjolras went a little crazy in this chapter, but hey, power does that to people. And wow... I didn't know I had that ending in me! Naughty Enjolras is sort of... Hot... **

**Review si'l vous plait!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, so dark!Enjolras is being banished for a while, or at least being explained a bit in this chapter. (Note: I imagine Enjolras to be a bit of a mama's boy, but isn't very open about his family because of his father.)**

**So here we go...**

* * *

The cold wood floors met Jacqueline's feet the next morning, only rushing her departure from the president's bedroom. She blindly dressed, trying to not disturb the sleeping man in the bed. But to her, this was normal; quickly leaving at the crack of dawn before last night's customer woke. She had grown used to the nature of her work, but she her heart ached every night when she was forced into another stranger's bed. As she left, a letter caught her eye. She picked it up and began to read it.

_Dear M. Enjolras,_

_It is my sad duty to inform you that your mother has passed. She requested on he deathbed that you be informed as soon as possible, and that you not be disturbed from your work to be there, so I decided that it would be best to write to you instead. _

_As you know, it is your father's decision as to what to do with your mother's possessions, but there are three items she'd left specific instructions for, and each item is to be sent to you. Inside, I have pasted your mother's instructions. _

_**For my son, Chretien, I leave the following: **  
_

_**My wedding ring, in hope that it will be on the hand of a pretty mademoiselle soon. **_

_**His grandfather's ruby cufflinks, because I know how he loved them when he was a child. **_

_**And his father's Stratovarius violin, because my boy hasn't played in forever, but he must. A Head of State must have some taste in music.**_

Jacqueline stopped reading, and glanced around the room, when a small sapphire and pearl ring caught her eye. She picked it up and, without checking to see if Enjolras was awake, she tried the ring on. Jacqueline barely had enough time to admire it, when Enjolras cleared his throat behind her. She turned and gasped, taking off the ring.

"I-I-"

"What are you doing? Why are you still here?" Enjolras questioned. "You aren't supposed to be here"

"I-I'm sorry, Monsieur. I didn't kn-"

"Didn't know that I was awake? Didn't know that you shouldn't be going through my things?" Enjolras stepped closer to her, until she was backed into the desk which the letter had been on.

"I-I didn't mean to! Please, Monsieur, just let me go," Jacqueline pleaded. She clasped one of his hands and fell to her knees, crying and begging for forgiveness. Enjolras just watched her, waiting until she collapsed in a heap at his feet.

"Mademoiselle, show some dignity," Enjolras stated.

"How can you expect me to do that!" Jacqueline cried. "I have fallen from grace, Monsieur, and there is no way I will ever have . . . dignity again."

"Go."

The one word echoed around the room, rattling inside Jacqueline's head. She rose to her feet, and stood in front of Enjolras.

"W-What?" She mumbled, staring into his eyes.

"Go!" He shouted at her. "Get out!"

Jacqueline turned and ran out of Enjolras' room, only to crash into Combeferre. The Good Doctor helped her up, and gently smiled at her.

"May I help you, Mademoiselle?" He inquired. Jacqueline thanked him softly, but shook her head. "Oh. I see. Then are you here to apply for the opening for a maid?"

Jacqueline thought for a moment; it would be much more respectable work than what she was doing, but she'd have to work for M. Enjolras.

"Y-Yes. M. Enjolras already approved me," she fibbed.

Combeferre smiled. "Wonderful! I'll take you down to get a uniform and to introduce you to the staff."

After all the proper introductions and changing into a more proper dress for her uniform, Jacqueline was handed a tray and given instructions to take breakfast to the president. She quietly entered his room, trying to hide her face as she brought the tray to him. But he recognized her immediately.

"Mademoiselle, what are you doing here?!" He exclaimed. Jacqueline just adverted her eyes and placed the tray down. Enjolras grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the bed. She was right in front of him, her hands resting gently on his arms.

"Monsieur, please. I must continue my route," she mumbled.

"Tell me," Enjolras began, "what must I do to help my people? You feel I have failed them. How?"

"Well, Paris isn't the only place that is suffering, Monsieur," Jacqueline told him.

Enjolras' hands moved timidly to her hips, only to receive a blush in return. Jacqueline chastely kissed his lips, but was met with a smoldering kiss from Enjolras.

But they both pulled away, knowing better than to let their emotions get the best of them, especially in the morning.

"Mademoiselle!" Enjolras called after her as she began to leave. Jacqueline turned to face him.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to join me and the rest of my main staff for supper tonight? My Head of Staff, Feuilly, will allow it, I'm sure." Enjolras gave a rare smile to the surprised girl in the doorway.

"I would like that very much. And Monsieur?"

"Yes?" Enjolras said eagerly.

Jacqueline laughed a bit; it was strange how. . . giddy Enjolras was being. But she liked it; it suited him well. "You don't have to call me Mademoiselle. Call me Jacqueline."

"Alright," Enjolras stated. "And you should call me Enjolras, or even Chretien, if you like."

"Alright. . . Chretien."

And with that, Jacqueline turned and exited, smiling to herself.

* * *

**And the award for shortest chapter ever goes to me! But I just had to try and patch up Jacqueline and Enjolras' relationship... And fix Enjolras' character... **

**So yeah; enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Welcome back! I liked cheery Enjolras in the last chapter... He's still going to be cheery at dinner, but more Enjolras-ish. And the Head Housekeeper, not to be confused with Feuilly, is going to be introduced. And she's... a treat... -_-**

* * *

"WHERE IS THAT BLASTED GIRL?" A loud, hoarse voice shouted down the servants' hallway.

Although Jacqueline had only worked in the Presidential Palace a morning, she knew that voice well enough to know to run when it was yelling for someone. The Head Housekeeper, Madame LeFevre, was demanding and tough, chastising her maids for the slightest mistakes. Jacqueline had already been hit about the knuckles three times that morning, once in the afternoon. And Mme. LeFevre was coming for her.

The stout, old woman glared at her as she stormed into the kitchen, where Jacqueline was quietly preparing a small midday meal for some of M. Enjolras' staff. Just as she was about to spread some Brie de Meaux on the warm slice of bread she had cut from one of the fresh loaves the chef had made, Mme. LeFevre snatched the half-finished bread slice from her, eating it, crumbs gathering in the corners of her mouth.

"Madame, that was for-"

"I do not CARE who it was for, Mlle. Jacqueline! You were supposed to hem the président's trousers, then scrub the floors in the hallway, and after that polish the silver from M. Pontmercy!" Mme. LeFevre scolded. "And because you haven't finished that, I will also have you launder the président's clothes, and if you get that done, his bed linen's!"

"Madame? I was supposed to have supper with M. le Président this evening! M. Feuilly already-"

"Monsieur Feuilly is not responsible for YOU. That is, sadly enough, my duty. Now GO! Before I report you for stealing from the pantries!"

Jacqueline nodded and scurried off, though in her head she was fairly amused. The bread and cheese had been for M. Feuilly. As she began to hem M. Enjolras' trousers, she pondered about what M. Feuilly would have to say about the Head Housekeeper stealing his midday snack. Picturing the slight, albeit tall, man scolding the crotchety old woman humored Jacqueline to no end, and she quickly had the président's trousers finished. But her next task was possibly her least favorite; scrubbing the floors. To pass the time, she sang to herself. Jacqueline had never been remarkable at singing, but could carry a tune and it made the task less painful.

"Why are you singing?" One of the higher ranked maids sneered at her. Jacqueline sat up on her knees and scowled at her.

"Because I can. Would you like to find a better way to distract yourself from scrubbing the floors?" Jacqueline asked, her tone cutting and harsh. The maid just stuck up her nose and gave an indignant sniff.

"No. Your kind of work is below me." And to make matters worse, the haughty maid tracked mud through the halls, making Jacqueline have to start all over again.

By four, the floors were scrubbed to a gleam worthy of a gold trophy, and the président's laundry was done and hung to dry. Jacqueline was halfway through the bed linen's when Mme. LeFevre came up to her.

"I see you're almost finished," she noted.

Jacqueline nodded. "Yes. I am."

"What exactly do you plan to wear to supper this evening?" Mme. LeFevre inquired, her eyes turned to slits as she looked over Jacqueline.

"I don't know. I was hoping I could just wear my uniform..."

"Then you're not going."

The words stung like knives, and Jacqueline turned from the Madame's unforgiving gaze. She had been invited by the président himself to dine this evening, and now she would not be able to go, because she didn't have a formal evening gown. Once the bed linen's were finished being laundered, Jacqueline went to the one person she knew who might have a woman's evening gown hidden somewhere. She cautiously knocked on the door of M. Courfeyrac's study, glad to be admitted entrance by a cheerful, tenor voice. Courfeyrac greeted her as if she were an old friend, although he had been a witness to Enjolras' anger toward her the day before. He offered her a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs he had situated facing his desk. Jacqueline gladly accepted, as she had been on her feet all day and could use a rest.

"Mademoiselle Duvall!" Courfeyrac chimed happily. "What may I do for you this fine day?" Jacqueline smiled in spite of herself. She understood why ladies loved him; he was charming and energetic, the way all young men should be.

"I was wondering... and please don't take this the wrong way... if you had a woman's evening gown lying around anywhere? I need a gown for this evening, you see, or else Mme. LeFe-" Jacqueline stopped as Courfeyrac rummaged around in an armoire he had in the corner of his small office, watching as he pulled out a pale pink evening gown, with a rose accent in the middle of the neckline. Jacqueline grinned. "Oh! It's wonderful! Thank you, Monsieur!"

Courfeyrac chuckled and nodded. "My pleasure, Mademoiselle. One of my girls left it a long time ago with me; if you want it, it's yours."

Jacqueline embraced him as a sister would a brother, then rushed downstairs to dress, giddy like a debutante during her first season.

That evening, Cosette Pontmercy was the first to comment on Jacqueline's choice of dress.

"Isn't that gown a little... outdated?" She questioned, motioning to the silhouetted figure it had. Jacqueline frowned and looked down ashamedly.

"Cosette, hush," Marius whispered. "I think it's darling. Modest and innocent."

M. Enjolras nodded from he seat at the head of the table, opposite to where Jacqueline sat. "Yes. I agree, Marius," he stated. "It is a fine dress for a charming young woman such as Mademoiselle Duvall."

Jacqueline felt her face grow hot, and ate in silence as everyone else talked of politics. She overheard that the villages in the South were not thriving like they had thought, and there was slight unrest still in Paris. Enjolras seemed to become more and more tense as more reports were told. By dessert, a quietness settled over him that seemed like the calm before the storm. Jacqueline hoped that she would not be the victim of his temper like she almost became last night, but as everyone got up to leave or head to the sitting room to chat, Enjolras called for her.

"Yes, Monsieur?" She mumbled politely.

"I couldn't help but notice how silent you were this evening," he told her. "It does not suit you well. If you would like, I could remove you from your duties as maid and you could stay, here, as my guest. You did not deserve being a common harlot, nor do you deserve to be a common maid. Therefore, it is my pleasure to extend this invitation to you to live with me as... my guest and my equal. I understand if you do no-"

"Oh, Monsieur! How could you say such a thing? For me not to accept your offer, I would have to be ill! And even if I were ill, I think I would still accept! Oh, merci, Chretien! Merci!" Before she could regain herself, Jacqueline embraced Enjolras more affectionately than she had Courfeyrac, kissing his cheek playfully. Enjolras frowned slightly, but after she left the room with a servant to be shown where she would be living from then on, he smiled.

"No," he muttered to himself, "merci, Jacqueline. Merci."

* * *

**AWWWW! Enjolras has a soft spot! I don't think he's really in love with her yet, but I think it's becoming obvious he cares for her. **

**Next chapter will be a filler, with more "Semi-Affectionate Enjolras", who will be overseeing Jacqueline's final transformation into a "proper lady".**

**Review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**It was so nice to finally hear from all of you! And Enjolras is very touched that you all are happy with him now! Jackie says "hi". **

**Has anyone seen the US Tour of Les Mis yet? What can you tell me about it - specifically Jason Forbach? Any info will be rewarded with silver candlesticks.**

* * *

Enjolras was sitting in his study after supper, when the Head Housekeeper burst into the room. Even a highly inebriated Grantaire would've been able to tell that she was enraged, but Enjolras calmly put down his pen and faced her. Mme. LeFevre glared at him, as if he were a naughty schoolboy who had skipped out on class.

"Mme. LeFevr-"

"YOU'RE LETTING THE DAMNED GIRL STAY AS A GUEST?! MONSIEUR, PARDON MY LANGUAGE, BUT SHE IS NOTHING BUT A USELESS WHORE!"

Enjolras cringed, but acted composed as he addressed the frustrated housekeeper. "Madame, she will be my personal guest, and therefore my responsibility. She will be out of your hair."

"She better be." Mme. LeFevre turned on her heel and exited.

Enjolras sighed and relaxed, loosening his cravat and unbuttoning his waistcoat. It had been an extraordinarily long day; Courfeyrac had bad news from Cherbourg to Toulon, and Combeferre had said that the hospitals were running out of supplies too quickly. Enjolras proposed raising taxes, but he knew how upsetting that would be to the people; he couldn't do it. And to make matters worse, crops were beginning to fail, and the markets in Paris were selling rotten produce, even though they had been given strong assurances that wouldn't happen like it did so long ago during the ancient regime. Enjolras knew they were in need of a symbol, something that would bring the people hope.

"But what?" He sighed, leaning on his desk. "I finally understand why Grantaire drinks..."

There was a knock on the door, and Jacqueline slipped inside, blushing slightly. Enjolras sat up, fixing his waistcoat.

"Mademoiselle?" He questioned. "May I help you?"

"I was just coming to ask, what am I to do for clothing? I only have my maid's uniform and the dress from this evening," Jacqueline shyly stated.

Enjolras thought for a moment; if she still wore her maid's uniform, Mme. LeFevre would be after him and her, but if he provided her a new wardrobe, the whole nation would be abuzz with rumors.

"Here," he pulled a wad of Francs out of one of his drawers. "I'll have Madame Pontmercy take you out to get whatever you need tomorrow, and that will settle everything." He placed the money in Jacqueline's hand and she stared at it.

"This is two thousand Francs... I can't take this, Monsieur," Jacqueline stated. "I couldn't dare waste your money on dresses, hair ribbons, and other frivolous things." In reality, the money in her hands was more than Jacqueline had seen in months, and she wanted to keep it, but it was wrong, she knew, to take even more advantage of Enjolras' hospitality.

"I insist you take it," he told her, clasping her hand around the bills. Jacqueline looked him in the eyes, smiling painfully.

"Monsieur, this is more money than I've seen in months. I cannot accept this. Your kindness has been too much. I-"

"Jacqueline, I'm sorry, but I've already promised Madame Pontmercy that she would have the chance to... as she put it, "update" you." Enjolras smiled brightly, and Jacqueline nodded.

"How will I ever repay you?" She inquired. Enjolras shook his head and took her hand.

"There is no need. We will be forever in each other's debts, Mademoiselle."

With that, Jacqueline retired to her bedroom, sighing as she sunk into the plush mattress, pulling the soft bed linen's close to her small frame. For the first time in what seemed like centuries to Jacqueline, she drifted off to sleep without a single fear in her mind.

When she awoke the next morning, however, she found herself in another nightmare. Cosette Pontmercy was watching her when she woke up, just inches away from her face. Jacqueline accidentally bumped foreheads with Cosette, and groaned.

"My, you are a much more sound sleeper than Enjolras and Marius! I must've woken Enjolras up from a bad nightmare this morning when I arrived, because he nearly smacked me when he woke! You're much more mellow, although you did mumble something about someone named Gustave. Who's Gustave? Your beau?" How Cosette could be so perky in the morning, Jacqueline didn't know.

"No," Jacqueline replied as she got out of bed, "he's my brother. When my father... Gustave is at an orphanage right now. I've never been able to get him. I. . . I don't even know which one he's in..."

Cosette frowned deeply and sat in one the luxurious velvet armchairs in the bedroom as Jacqueline brushed out her hair. "How sad! How old is he? Mayhap I can have Marius look for him." Cosette stated.

Jacqueline whirled around, smiling widely at her. "Oh! Would you? I would love to finally see him, I've missed him so. He has twelve years, would that help?"

Cosette shrugged. "I don't actually know. I'll talk to my husband, he'll be able to find Gustave."

Jacqueline nodded, and rushed behind a dressing screen to get ready to go out. She reappeared in her gown from the evening before, and Cosette dragged her out of her room before she had time to think.

The city was bustling as usual, and the young women slipped in and out of the way of buggies and other people on the streets until they reached the mercantile streets. Cosette dragged Jacqueline into a small shop that sold perfumes and cosmetics. Jacqueline staggered behind, watching as Cosette talked to the shopkeeper until she had a basketful of products, all chosen for Jacqueline's toilette. That cost two hundred Francs, leaving eighteen hundred for gowns and underclothes.

When the two arrived at the dressmakers', Cosette immediately picked out patterns for Jacqueline, and allowed the dressmaker to choose the best color palette for her.

"I like the red silk best for this one," Cosette matched it with a pattern that had what, to Jacqueline, seemed like a scandalously low neckline. "And the lavender would fit this one, but mayhap some cream ribbon accents, instead of the white? I think the white would just wash Jacqueline out. And could we also have a new pelisse and a new cloak as well?"

"What colors, Madame?" The shopkeeper questioned.

"Scarlet for the pelisse, and cream for the cloak, please," Cosette turned to Jacqueline after she answered. Jacqueline sighed to herself; she felt as if she was being kidnapped by Cosette.

As the dressmaker began to take measurements, Cosette let out a small huff. "If I had half your figure, I would've had the attentions of every man in Paris."

"That is not always a good thing, Madame," Jacqueline warned. "Sometimes, you draw the attention of the wrong type of men." She hated the fact that Cosette was envious of the way she looked; if the pampered girl had seen the bruises Jacqueline had endured, she wouldn't have wished for her body.

The dressmaker brought out a finished gown from the day before that was altered at Cosette's insistence, and Jacqueline stepped out in a brand-new red gown, her cream cloak tied tightly.

"Now the only thing you're missing is a bonnet. And some haircombs... Ah! There's M. Trellier's! He'll have everything!" Cosette dragged Jacqueline across the street and into a quaint little shop, the walls lined with hats, bonnets, caps, and many other outerwear/hair things. Jacqueline immediately wandered over to a rabbit fur muff; her mother had owned something similar, and Jacqueline had always loved it. She felt it, the soft fur was guaranteed to be warm. Cosette purchased a few bonnets for Jacqueline, along with a few hairpieces for evening things or the opera. Jacqueline took it upon herself to purchase the muff, and did so happily.

After the dresses and bonnets and such, Jacqueline only had one hundred Francs left. She passed a small jewelry shop, and inside there was a simple bagatelle that just... called to her. It had a thin gold chain, with lovely pearls on it. Jacqueline already had a pearl necklace - believe it or not, she had managed to keep her mother's - but the simple piece of jewelry seemed to capture her attention.

"Why did you buy that?" Cosette asked when she returned from inside the shop. "It looks really old."

"That's why I like it. The fact that something so delicate can survive for so long... it's quite remarkable, isn't it?"

"I guess. We should get back; Enjolras was hoping to see you immediately after your 'transformation'", Cosette told her.

When the two returned, Enjolras was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. He smiled down at Jacqueline as she removed her cloak, revealing the red gown underneath.

"My," he began as he moved down the stairs, "you look stunning, Mademoiselle." In a charming display, he took her hand and kissed it. Jacqueline's cheeks colored and she took her hand away.

"Well, if it wasn't for you, I'd still be out on the streets. This is all for you, Monsieur," Jacqueline said, smiling cordially at him. They stared at each other until Marius joined them, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Oh! Shall we go to dinner?" Enjolras offered Jacqueline his arm.

"We shall."

* * *

**Cosette had to be used for shopping, just saying... And d'awwwww! Sweet!jolras is sweet! **

**Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Helllooooooo! I'm back! Did you miss me? :) **

**In this chapter, we have Good Samaritan Marius, who tells Jacqueline where Gustave is. **

**Oh yeah, and I did name him Gustave because of the horrid LND. It was the first name for a little kid that came to mind!**

* * *

During supper, everyone behaved in a much more intimate fashion; each couple, from Courfeyrac and his new wife Marguerite, to Enjolras and Jacqueline (who were not truly in a relationship), talked and laughed as if they all had been friends since birth. Cosette, however, brought a darker light to supper, when she inquired about Gustave.

Marius wrung his hands a bit, as both Jacqueline and Cosette waited for an answer. "He... is at... St. Louise's, I believe."

Jacqueline got up and embraced Marius, thanking him many times over. She turned to Enjolras, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Please, Chretien? I can't bear to think of him in an orphanage any longer, especially now, considering I can actually help him," she begged. Enjolras thought for a moment, but eventually smiled, nodding in consent. "Oh, thank you!" She scurried to his side and kissed his cheek, causing Enjolras to blush. "When shall we get him?"

"As soon as you want, Jacqueline," Enjolras replied. "In fact, if you so wish it, we could fetch him this evening."

"Oh! Could we? I haven't seen him in what seems like forever."

Enjolras smiled and rose from his seat, and motioned for Jacqueline to follow him as he exited. Jacqueline trailed after him happily, grabbing her cloak and muff, bundling up before leaving the comfort and warmth of the Presidental Palace. Enjolras offered her his arm and they strolled down the streets toward St. Louise's. When they arrived, a nun greeted them, and Jacqueline did all the talking.

"Good evening, Sister," she stated. "I've come to inquire after my brother, Gustave Duvall. Our friend, Marius Pontmercy, told us he was here."

"Your brother? My dear, then why did you not fetch him sooner?" The nun questioned.

"I did not have the means. I hope you may forgive me," Jacqueline said modestly. The nun nodded.

"I have no right to judge you, child. You should not feel to ask for my forgiveness. As for your brother, he is here, and I will take you to him."

Enjolras and Jacqueline followed her inside, and were led upstairs into a small room, that was lined with beds on each wall. The room was fairly empty, except for a few young boys that were playing marbles.

"Gustave!" The nun called.

From under one of the beds, a blonde boy emerged, grinning ear-to-ear. He had a mischievous look about him, with an almost elvish face. He was small for his age, not anywhere near five feet, and was thin. His eyes, unlike his sister's, were a bright blue, though they seemed duller than Jacqueline remembered them. Gustave stared at his sister and her companion for a moment, taking in the sight of them like you would a relative who had been away in a foreign country for the longest time. He ran to his sister, embracing her.

"Jackie! It is you!" He exclaimed, burying his face in her cloak. Jacqueline smiled, tears pricking her cheeks.

"Yes, it is. And now I'll be able to take care of you. We're going to live with my friend Chretien," she told him. Gustave looked up at Enjolras, and launched himself at him in anger.

"YOU KILLED PAPA! YOU KILLED PAPA!" Gustave screamed as Enjolras held his arm, trying to get him to calm down. Jacqueline took Gustave, holding him and stroking his hair.

"Shhh... Shhh. He's going to take care of us, Gustave. He is not a bad man," Jacqueline murmured. Gustave shook his head, silent years streaming down his cheeks.

"He is! He is a MURDERER!" Gustave cried.

Jacqueline sighed. "I thought the same thing when I first met him. I wanted him to burn in Hell for all the things he did to me, he did to us, but I know now that father dug his own grave. You know what he was saying about Chretien and his friends just as well as I do. And my friend's hospitality is great; it is he you must thank for my coming here. Without him, I would not be here, with all these lovely things, ready to take you home with us. I owe him my life, Gustave. Is hating him and screaming at him how you want to repay him?"

"I suppose not," Gustave mumbled. Jacqueline smiled and ruffled his hair.

The nun was waiting for them outside the room.

"You may take him, if you want," she stated. "Since he's family."

Gustave took Jacqueline's hand, and the small, makeshift family walked out onto the streets. As the headed back in the direction of the Presidential Palace, they passed a small shop that made children's clothes. Inside, a boy not much older than Gustave was being fitted for a new coat. Jacqueline frowned slightly, as the coat her brother donned was quite worn, though nothing worth turning a nose up at.

"Tomorrow, Gustave, would you like to go out and buy some new things? Clothes and such?" Jacqueline questioned.

Gustave's eyes sparkled. "Toys?" He asked hopefully. Jacqueline smiled and laughed.

"Of course! Whatever you want, we'll get," she assured him. Gustave grinned widely and happily continued down the street, until they arrived at the Presidential Palace. There, he halted, staring amazedly at the building.

"This... is A HOUSE?" Gustave exclaimed. Enjolras chuckled.

"Yes," he answered. "This is THE house. Come, your sister and I will show you around."

The three entered, Jacqueline and Enjolras removing their winter things, Jacqueline's cloak and Enjolras' overcoat, before showing Gustave around. He was introduced to all of the Amis, then shown upstairs.

"On the second floor, there is a library, my study, and the sitting room. And above, on the third floor, is my bedroom, your sister's and what will be yours."

Conveniently enough, Gustave yawned just as they began to mount the stairs to the third floor. Jacqueline gently led him upstairs, taking him down the hall and into one of the many spare rooms. Gustave scrambled into the bed, pulling the blankets up sloppily. Jacqueline tucked him in, kissing his forehead.

"Jacqueline?" Gustave mumbled, sleep heavy in his voice.

"Yes?" She gently brushed back his hair from his forehead, noting that it would need to be washed and neated slightly in cut.

"Would you tell Monsieur Chretien that I say thank you? For taking care of you, of course."

Jacqueline smiled. "I will. Now go to sleep."

Jacqueline slipped out of the room, heading downstairs to the sitting room, where Enjolras was waiting inside behind the piano.

"How is he?" He questioned, rising as she entered.

"He told me to tell you he says thank you. And... I do too. You didn't have to get Gustave with me. You were kind enough to do so. It's so odd, I find myself deeper and deeper in your debt, yet I do not feel conflicted about it. It brings me great pleasure, in a sense, though, to owe you. Yet, what, I do not know. Sate my curiosity, Chretien. How may I repay you?"

Enjolras looked upon her, seeing in her the harlot, and the maid she had been, and the lady she was as she stood before him. He smiled, his eyes shining. "You do not owe me anything," he stated. Jacqueline shook her head.

"That is not true. I have been around men too much in my short time not to know that they always expect something in return; usually something of the flesh..." She closed her eyes painfully.

"Then you have not known good men," Enjolras noted, approaching her. "Jacqueline, you must believe me when I say you do not, nor will you ever, owe me anything. Your well-being and companionship is all I ask of you." He embraced her, and she, for once, felt welcome in a man's arms. She sighed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "And, with moments with this, you make me richer than any monarch or emperor. You may repay me with warmth and your kindness."

"Then I fear I am cheating you of your own kindness," Jacqueline whispered.

"Do not fear, for if that is all you fear, may I feel joy of such concern."


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter is going to be a fluffy chapter. Gustave is going to be a bit more adorable in this chapter, if it's possible. **

* * *

The next morning, Gustave eagerly waited for Enjolras and Jacqueline to finish breakfast, squirming in his seat while the older two took their time eating. Jacqueline looked over to him, smiling as he bounced in his seat.

"Hurry!" He whined impatiently. "I can't wait any longer! I want to get all the good toys!" Enjolras chuckled. The young boy glared at him for doing so, but then cracked a small grin as Jacqueline and Enjolras rose from their seats. "FINALLY!"

The boy scrambled ahead of the two, climbing into the open carriage waiting for the little group. Jacqueline joined him next, donning her cloak and muff. Enjolras emerged last, having nearly forgotten his gloves and hat in his rush to join the others outside. Climbing into the carriage, he put on his hat, grinning warmly. Jacqueline placed her hands in her lap, watching as Gustave directed the driver as to where to go. After the twelfth toy shop, Jacqueline took over.

"M. and Mme. Lesueur's, please," she stated politely. The driver nodded, and Gustave groaned.

"Not them! Mme. Lesueur always stabs me with pins!" He complained. "And M. Lesueur smells like rotting fish." He wrinkled his nose, and Jacqueline laughed lightly. Chretien laughed as well, except not as much as Jacqueline had. "He does! And she's so blind she can barely see where she's putting all those pins! Jackie, please! Not there!"

"I'm sorry, Gustave. That's the only place I know, unless you intend to have me buy patterns and cloth and make your clothes myself," she told him. Gustave's eyes widened in even greater horror.

"NO! You can't sew worth your life!" Gustave cried.

Gustave's statement was quite true; when Jacqueline's Governess had begun to teach her to embroider and sew, it had been quite the nightmare. She never had improved much at sewing, but her embroidering had improved slowly. Her father had eventually cancelled the sewing lessons, exchanging them for lessons in the pianoforte (which didn't go well either).

"Mademoiselle, we're here," the driver stated. Jacqueline thanked him and climbed out on her own, Gustave jumping out after her. Chretien stayed in the carriage, although he left for a nearby bookshop once Jacqueline and Gustave were inside Lesueur's.

Inside the small children's clothing shop, a plump, merry-looking, old woman stood behind a counter, wearing an apron that carried pins and other things needed for her trade. She had many wrinkles, though they were mostly found by her eyes and around her mouth, which showed that she had spent her life happy. She recognized the Duvall siblings almost immediately, hugging them both as if they were her grandchildren, which they could've been, considering the wide age difference.

"Oh! Jacqueline! How are you? My, I haven't seen either of you in so long! But why would I; I'm sure you've been in mourning after what that wretched man did to your poor father. What may I do for you, my dears?" Mme. Lesueur inquired.

"Gustave needs new clothes. His trousers are too short, his coat is worn, as are the knees of his trousers, and... you know I am incapable of patching them."

Mme. Lesueur looked over Gustave's clothes, and frowned. "You're right. Well, lets start fittings and I'll let you decide what to get."

Gustave frowned deeply as Mme. Lesueur took his measurements, and Jacqueline flipped through patterns, picking out the ones she liked. After all the measurements were taken, Jacqueline handed over the patterns she had selected, and Mme. Lesueur's husband brought out bolts of fabric for Gustave and Jacqueline to look at.

"Jackie!" Gustave exclaimed, touching a bolt of red cloth, "Can I have a red coat like M. Chretien?" Jacqueline smiled; the cloth Gustave had chosen was the same shade of scarlet as one of Enjolras' favorite coats.

"No," she sighed. "How about this dark blue instead?" Gustave pouted and stomped his foot.

"But Jackie! If he can wear red, I can wear red too!"

Jackie frowned deeply, but unlike her father, she was incapable of saying no to him.

So Gustave was going to get a scarlet coat.

Later, after shopping, the little almost-family returned home, and sat around the dining room table, eating supper. Gustave ate quickly, leaving the table to go upstairs to play with his new toys, leaving Jacqueline and Enjolras alone. Enjolras sat quietly, picking at his supper.

"Is something wrong, Chretien?" Jacqueline inquired.

"No, no..." he mumbled. "Nothing is wrong."

"I don't believe you." She looked into his eyes, a serious expression on her face.

"I... I've been thinking about the revolution. About those we lost, though we lost very few. And... do you think I've become what we intended to stop?" He questioned. Jacqueline shook her head and grasped Enjolras' hand gently.

"A few months ago, I would've thought so. But now... Chretien, you are so just and kind and good. No monarch would've taken me off the streets and treated me so kindly. I owe you my life, Chretien. Thanks to you, I now have my life back to normal. And even if a monarch were good enough to help me, there is no way they would take in my little brother. Also, for me to trust you so, and for you not to look upon me in disgust every time I come in your sight, is a great testament to your kindness and forgiveness. The things I've done, Chretien... you'd be shocked if you knew half of them. And yet, you still treat me like a human being," Jacqueline stated.

"That," Enjolras began, "is where you are wrong. I took your father away from you, Jacqueline. A father I know you adored immensely, and Gustave obviously adored him as well. I am not good. To take away the bread winner of a family is most possibly the cruelest thing to do to someone. Yet, YOUR forgiving and gentle heart, a heart unlike that of most females, has made me human again. Where once a human statue stood, a man now takes its place; a man who feels more than the statue he replaced would ever feel. While the former statue was dedicated to one thing only, the latter man wants to - and in a sense must - choose more than one route on his journey. From the statue's marble base the immortal phrase '_Liberté, égalité, fraternité, _once so very permanent, was chiseled away, replaced with the phrase '_Love, thine is the future'. _But until now... I had no idea what that meant until now."

"What does it mean?"

"It means, now at least, that I will finally love with my entire being in every way possible," Enjolras replied, squeezing her hand.

"I wish I felt it was true. But... I haven't felt much for any man in so long, Chretien. I don't-"

"Then... let me help you feel again, Jacqueline. If... you would like to heal this," he smiled a bit, "statue at the same time." Jacqueline felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Would you like to try?"

"I'd love to."

He leaned very close to her, so close that she could smell the mint on his breath, and could see the details of his face perfectly, almost to a point where she thought she could have counted each one of his dark lashes. His own scent reminded her of her father's; Enjolras seemed to smell like books and ink, as if he spent every waking minute of his life in a library or his study. The smell of him forced her to remember her father, but she pushed those ghosts away, and focused back on Enjolras. Her heart raced, as did his, and their lips barely brushed when, suddenly, Gustave came barging in.

"I forgot my to- Jackie? M. Chretien? W-What are you doing?"

* * *

**Dun dun dunnnn! Cliffie! Will Gustave freak? How will Jackie explain what he walked in on?**

**And I abused a quote from the book, probably misusing it, but I feel like in musical!verse authors are more or less allowed to play around with source material. **

**Review?**

**-Class**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's the big chapter, which has all the drama between Gustave, Jackie, and Enjolras! **

**And... Jason Forbach has been sick lately, which is depressing because I was hoping to meet him when I go see Les Mis in Chicago!**

**Anyway, here we go...**

* * *

"Gustave!" Jacqueline exclaimed. Enjolras automatically snapped back into his seat, nowhere near her, and let go of her hand. "I thought you were going to go play with your toys?"

"I forgot my top," Gustave snatched the small wooden object from the table. "Were... Were you two going to... kiss?" Jacqueline blushed and looked down, ashamed. Enjolras took her hand once more, and gently rubbed circles into her palm with his thumb. "Well? Were you?"

Jacqueline nodded. "Yes. We were. Gustave, I'm so sor-"

"How... How COULD YOU!" Tears welled up in Gustave's eyes and began to stream down his pale cheeks. "I was always your boy! Now... NOW YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE HIM MORE THAN ME!"

"Gustave, that's not true!" Jacqueline cried. "You'll always be my best boy! Come here," Gustave climbed into her lap as if he were six. "I'll always love you. You're my little brother, of course I'll love you. But I can love Chretien as well. Chretien makes me happy, Gustave. You do want me to be happy, don't you?"

Gustave sniffled slightly. "I suppose so. If you're not happy, you won't love anyone, will you?" Jacqueline laughed.

"No matter how I feel, I'll always love you, Gustave," she kissed the boy's cheek and ruffled his hair. "Now, off to bed! M. Combeferre has already been gone an hour, and he always stays until half past seven."

Gustave groaned, but ran out of the dining room, and thundered up the stairs and into his bedroom, while Jacqueline and Enjolras stayed in the dining room, staring at each other amidst heavy silence.

"Did you mean it?" The silence was finally broken with Enjolras' blunt questioning.

"Mean what?" Jacqueline inquired, though she knew well what he was referring to. But she wanted to hear it from him.

"Are you... in love with me?" he questioned.

"I... I honestly don't know. You're the only man who's ever treated me well, except for my father, although after Maman died... Well, he didn't treat me well after she died. But you..."

"I still hurt you though," Enjolras pointed out. "That day, in Montmartre. I'm sure you have the bruises still." Jacqueline frowned deeply.

"I've received much, MUCH worse than a few bruises on my arms, Chretien. And, unlike the other men who've mistreated me, you at least feel remorse; something those scum who hurt me will never be capable of feeling. I suppose I spoke too early; I have known you so very briefly, and to claim to love you... Well, it was silly and very immature of me," Jacqueline decided.

Enjolras fiddled slightly with a gold ring on his finger; a ring that had been made for him by all the surviving citizens that had risen up with him and the Friends of the ABC. Each one of the citizens had given up a small precious item; a pin, a ring, a necklace chain; and the items were then melted down and crafted into a ring for their new president to wear. On the ring, inside the band, the phrase _'The flame that never dies'_ had been etched. He wore it always, remembering the revolution, the fallen, and the bravery of the people with it. But he had developed a nervous habit of playing with it, something that was so unnoticeable that most people would look past it, but those who knew Enjolras well knew what the awkward motion meant.

"You... were not being silly or immature. If I have in fact captured your heart, you were not in fault for telling Gustave that you love me," he finally said. Jacqueline blushed.

"And... what if that were true? What if I am in love with you?" She mumbled shyly. Enjolras smiled.

"Then I have received the love of one of the kindest, gentlest hearts I have ever met in my twenty-two years," he told her.

"May I... kiss you? Like we were about to do? If you'll permit it, of course..."

Enjolras leaned closer to her, and grinned. "Of course I do. But do you permit it?"

Jacqueline nodded and Enjolras gently pressed his lips to hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he cautiously brought her closer to him by way of a strong hand on her back. The simple kiss became more desperate, more needy, and the two, shocked by the sudden wanting, pulled away. Both faces were flushed; Jacqueline's from the pure need she suddenly possessed, and Enjolras' from shock.

"I..." she began, not quite sure what to say.

Enjolras suddenly rose from the table, avoiding Jacqueline's gaze, and mumbled a quick apology before darting out of the room. Jacqueline watched him, confused and full of emotions she wasn't sure she should've been feeling. She sat alone for what, to her, felt like centuries, eventually rising to retire for the night. As she passed Enjolras' bedroom, she could hear him pacing about the room. She frowned, and made her way down to Gustave's room. Inside, the boy was fast asleep, his head barely on his pillow. Jacqueline smiled; he had always slept like that.

Once she reached her own bedroom, she undressed and changed into her bedclothes. But she felt uneasy, leaving Enjolras to be confused and unsure about how he felt, so she grabbed her robe and silk slippers, and snuck down the hall to his bedroom.

Inside, she discovered, Enjolras was still dressed, but his waistcoat was opened, as was part of his shirt, and his cravat was loosened. He turned to her, and in the warm candlelight he appeared like a wild Antinous, the godlike youth and beauty he exuded was stunning, yet was intimidating.

"Jacqueline? What are you doing here?" he questioned.

"I overheard your pacing, and wanted to see if I could help you solve this... restlessness," she replied gently, approaching him. Upon reaching him, she gently stood behind him, taking the place most wives and mistresses were used to taking, propping her chin up on his shoulder, rubbing his arm softly. Enjolras closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he did so.

"Jacqueline, is it strange that I do not know what to think or say when I'm around you?" He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Jacqueline shook her head.

"Oh no. I find it quite normal; endearing, really," she replied.

"Yet," Enjolras pondered aloud, "why is it that I knew exactly what I wanted from you earlier, when I received the pleasure of capturing your lips with mine? I have never wanted anything physical from anyone, yet... as soon as I felt you, truly felt you, I suddenly realized that I do. And I want that sort of... intimacy," Enjolras flushed slightly, "with you."

Jacqueline colored as well, and moved to face him. "Well, committing one more sin on my part would not ruin me any more than I already am, would it?"

"Don't think that way," Enjolras took her hand and kissed it tenderly. "Your sins are no longer to tarnish you. And to spend an evening in your arms may be the closest to heaven I will ever get." Jacqueline shook her head.

"You are mistaken, Chretien. For me to spend an evening in _your _arms is the closest to heaven _I_ will ever get," she argued. Enjolras wrapped his arms around her small frame, pulling her close to him.

"Is this real?" He murmured in her ear.

"I do not know. I... I've never been in love before, but all at once... it's... it's you. And at the moment, I am sure it will be you, and only you, forevermore. I feel as if I belong, here, in your arms, though I know how wrong it is... How scandalous this is, for France's powerful, young president to be in love with the daughter of the man who scorned the new government and all those involved." Enjolras smiled at the meer mentioning of their relationship being scandalous, considering his whole coming to power could be considered more scandalous than their mere relationship.

"I never thought I would fall in love," Enjolras quietly admitted to her, "but now... I do not know how I survived without you. The nation will always be my first love, I must warn you, but you are just as cherished in my heart."

"Then do not dismiss me this evening; let me stay by your side tonight, and every night. Please, I must ask this of you," Jacqueline stated. Enjolras smiled.

"How peculiar, for I was just about to ask the same of you."

Jacqueline sat down on Enjolras' bed, watching him as he removed his waistcoat and cravat from his person, then chastely turning away as he continued to undress. Enjolras smiled to himself, amused by her embarrassed expression that was caused by the simple, daily action of him changing.

"You may look now," he chuckled. Jacqueline smiled slightly and stood up, allowing him to turn down the bed and climb in before kicking off her slippers, removing her robe and joining him. They kept a modest space between each other, and Jacqueline watched as Enjolras read some official document quietly. Once he was done reading, he leaned over, snuffing out the candle on his bedside table. Enjolras settled into bed, and Jacqueline did the same. The space between them, however, grew awkward, and Jacqueline slowly inched toward Enjolras, curling up against him. He opened his eyes and smiled down at her, draping an arm over her protectively.

"Goodnight," Jacqueline mumbled.

"Goonight." Enjolras pressed his lips to her forehead and watched as she closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. Once her breathing had slowed and become steady and even, Enjolras too drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Okay, I just had a fluff heart attack... GOD, HOW ARE THESE TWO SO CUTE TOGETHER?**

**Oh, and a shoutout to my readers in the States; Happy Thanksgiving y'all! **

**~TheClassof1832**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hellooooo! I am back! And yes; fluffies are coming in abundance! **

**Enj: Really?**

**Me: Yesshhh. But first... Mme. LeFevre is going to wake you and Jackie up!**

* * *

Madame LeFevre made her morning rounds on the residential floor of the Presidential Palace. She woke the boy first, knowing he'd take the longest to get ready for the day. Next, she went to Mademoiselle Duvall's room, and found that she was not in her bed. Going on, not taking any interest in Jacqueline, she entered the president's room, opening the drapes to let in light. The sudden brightness startled Enjolras, and he jolted up into a sitting position. Much to Mme. LeFevre's surprise, Jacqueline sat up as well, leaning tiredly against Enjolras. Jacqueline's groggy state kept her from realizing that she and Enjolras had unexpected company; but then again, Mme. LeFevre woke everyone in the household at the same time every morning, so she wasn't exactly unexpected. Mme. LeFevre looked upon the two in disgust.

"Of all the scandalous things... you are sleeping with your sworn enemy's daughter!" she exclaimed, glaring at both Enjolras and Jacqueline.

"Madame, M. Duvall has been dead for more th-"

"YES!" Mme. LeFevre shrieked. "DEAD BY YOUR HANDS! Why the little piece of garbage would even work for you is beyond me; I cannot even FATHOM you two sharing a bed, making, God forbid, LOVE to each other!" Jacqueline began to tremble slightly and Enjolras put a comforting arm around her.

"We didn't do anything," Enjolras stated. "Having her fall asleep in my arms last night was better than anything truly of the flesh. Feeling her steady, even heartbeat, and feeling her warm breath graze my skin... It was beautiful, like a painting by an old Master. I hope to never have a night without her by my side." Jacqueline smiled painfully.

"Your love of your country must always be greater," she warned.

"Ah! But his love of common whores and cheap harlots like yourself had overcome that love. I have never seen a man more in... lust for a girl since M. Courfeyrac-"

"This is not lust," Enjolras growled. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to keep Jacqueline here by my side, despite the criticism from people like you." Jacqueline climbed out of the bed, snatching her robe, which had been carelessly thrown onto a chair the night before, covered herself, and left to dress for the day.

A bit later, while one of the maids was helping Jacqueline into her corset, Enjolras entered the room, startling the maid and causing Jacqueline to color in spite of herself.

"Monsieur!" the maid exclaimed. "Would you like me to give you and the mademoiselle privacy?" Enjolras smiled slightly.

"Yes, thank you, Athene." Enjolras knelt next to Jacqueline once the maid left the room, and took her hand gently.

"Courfeyrac, Combeferre, the Pontmercys, and I are going to the opéra tonight. Would you care to join us? I feel it would be a great opportunity for you to be back in society again, no matter how much the society you knew so well has changed. And Gustave may come as well; I'm sure we can make room for him in the box," he stated. Jacqueline smiled.

"I'd love to. I'm sure he'll love it too. Thank you." Jacqueline kissed both his cheeks affectionately, and stood up, walking over to choose a dress for the day and for the evening. "My, it's been so long since I've had to wear an evening gown... I'm so excited!"

"I'm sure it's been too long," Enjolras said. He watched as she looked through her armoire for a decent evening gown. Jacqueline decided on a pink satin one for the evening that Enjolras thought would not look out of place in Cosette's wardrobe. For the day, she decided on a dark blue dress that was much more conservative than her evening gown.

Once she was dressed, Jacqueline and Enjolras went downstairs together, meeting Courfeyac on their way to breakfast.

"Remember, my friend, that we are going to Nice in a few weeks," Courfeyrac told Enjolras. "So you and Mademoiselle Duvall will have to discuss the arrangements that will be needed in your absence; public appearances and such."

"Why would that be an issue?" Jacqueline questioned. Courfeyrac grinned devilishly and winked at her.

"Because, Mademoiselle; when word gets out that you are... 'sleeping' with the president, there will be lots of people wanting to hear more."

"Courfeyrac!" she exclaimed. "I am not 'sleeping' with Chretien! We shared a bed, that is all!" Though Courfeyrac knew Jacqueline's statement to be true, he still wiggled his eyebrows at her in a mischievous way.

Enjolras frowned deeply at his friend, and continued on to the dining room with Jacqueline. The two were greeted by Gustave, whose face was covered in some sort of jam or preserves.

"Jackie! The chef made crêpes for breakfast!" he exclaimed happily. Jacqueline smiled and she made her way to her seat, accompanied by Enjolras, who pulled her chair out for her, and once she was seated, scooted it back in.

"My," Jacqueline noted, "someone is being quite the gentleman this morning." Enjolras just smiled, and began to eat, only to be interrupted by a servant bringing a note for him. Enjolras read it quietly to himself, only to scowl once he finished.

"My father intends to visit soon, and has also taken it upon himself to host Christmas this year," he informed them.

"Oh! How kind!" Jacqueline decided after a moment's consideration. "That is so nice of him to reach out, considering you two are the only family either of you have left." Gustave suddenly looked forlorn, and Jacqueline's eyebrows scrunched together in concern. "What's the matter, Gustave?"

"Jackie, does that mean we have to celebrate Christmas alone?" he questioned. Enjolras frowned at the mere mentioning of the possibility.

"No," Enjolras answered for Jacqueline. "You two will come with me to Orleans and my father will have to make room for the two of you. My childhood home has plenty of guest bedrooms; you and your sister will be quite comfortable there."

"And when does he intend to visit?" Jacqueline inquired.

"Chretien Enjolras!" a voice shouted from the foyer.

Enjolras winced, and checked the date at the top of the note.

"Apparently... today."

* * *

**A fairly short chapter, but hey! We're meeting Papa Enjolras! Who will be a piece of work, I guarantee it. ;)**

**Review?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Next chapter is here! More M. Enjolras and then to the opera! **

* * *

A few things should be known about M. Enjolras, especially now that he has become part of the story. M. Enjolras was not quite an old man, but was nearing his fifties. He and his son were practically identical, except for the slight wrinkles on his face and silver streaks in his hair that were most prominent on M. Enjolras. That being said, M. Enjolras was a handsome man, despite his coming signs of aging. Like his son, he had a serious air about him, and had little time for frivolity. He had only ever loved one woman, and that was Enjolras' mother. Secretly, M. Enjolras loved his son as well, but ever since the boy had reached adolescence, he had become somewhat rebellious, and to M. Enjolras unbearable.

The tall, gangly middle-aged man strode into the dining room as if he owned the place, and stood next to his son at the head of the table. M. Enjolras cleared his throat expectantly.

"Yes?" Enjolras questioned.

"Shouldn't I be sitting at the head, my boy?" M. Enjolras inquired. Enjolras frowned deeply.

"No. I believe I finally outrank you, father. And this is my home," he stated. M. Enjolras chuckled and moved down, sitting next to Jacqueline, who was at the foot of the table. He turned to her, and examined her.

"Isn't that dress fairly immodest for breakfast, Mademoiselle? Or is it Madame?" The inquiry caused Jacqueline to look up from her meal, her face flushing slightly.

"I found this dress to be fairly conservative..." she mumbled shyly.

"Oh, well perhaps the dress itself is. But not the lady filling it out."

Jacqueline placed her silverware down calmly, though Enjolras was past the point of "calm".

"Father," he began, "do you truly think you can just waltz in here, insult my guest, and get away with it?" M. Enjolras just smiled absentmindedly.

"No, I rather dislike the waltz. Such a vulgar dance if I dare say. Who is the boy?" He turned his attention to Gustave, who was across from him. "Or should I say _elf_?" Gustave scowled in a manner that nearly mirrored the look coming from the head of the table.

"He's my brother Gustave," Jacqueline stated softly. M. Enjolras stared her down, and Jacqueline shrunk back, regretting answering.

"And your name, Mademoiselle?"

"Jacqueline. Jacqueline Duvall."

M. Enjolras just stared at her for a moment, and Jacqueline got up, excusing herself.

She stayed up in her room, thinking, refusing to eat, until Enjolras came in. He embraced her, and she let him hold her until the silence became too much for the both of them. He touched her hair, sighing to himself.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "He's awful. I'll cancel spending the holidays with him. You and Gustave won't have to be exposed to that..." Jacqueline nodded and kissed his cheek.

"Now I do want to repay you," she whispered. Enjolras clenched his jaw tightly and closed his eyes.

"I have already told you that is unnecessary," he tersely reminded. Jacqueline frowned and began to gently kiss his lips in a teasing way.

"If only. . . there was a way. . . for me. . . to relieve you. . . of all this. . . stress," she mumbled between kisses. Enjolras stayed still, but in the back of his mind, in the primeval, unevolved part of his mind that he so ignored and had tried to wish into oblivion, his thoughts were whirling madly. He knew exactly _what_ to do, but he did not wish to do so. But it was when Jacqueline led his hands to her waist that he began to truly grasp his... _wanting_.

Enjolras couldn't recall a time when he had wanted something more; no, he decided, he could, but he had never wanted a _human being_ so much before. He had wanted revolution, he noted, more than he desired Jacqueline, and he had wanted to become president more than he wanted her. But his connection to her through that simple touch had made him want her too.

To Jacqueline's surprise, Enjolras began to kiss her back, with twice the fervor she had, and his hands curiously roamed around, finding that he preferred to keep them at her hips than anywhere else. The two laid back on her bed, Jacqueline's fingers now tangled in Enjolras' unruly golden curls, Enjolras' hands resting on her back, bringing her closer. His lips grazed her neck and she gasped softly.

"Chretien..." she breathed. He smiled against her soft skin.

"Yes?" he murmured.

". . . Make. . . Make love to me, Chretien."

* * *

A few hours later, one of the maids let herself into Mademoiselle Jacqueline's room, having to use a key because the door had been locked. She shuffled about, gathering things for her to help Jacqueline with to get ready for the opera.

"Mademoiselle," she said, approaching the bed, "the opera will be sending a chaise in an hour for you and Monsieur le Président. You must get ready."

"In a moment, Claudia," Jacqueline mumbled. "I'm preoccu- Oh! Chretien, stop!" Slight giggles were heard from Jacqueline, as well as a deeper chuckle from the man in her bed.

Suddenly, the president sat up, his hair even more wild than usual and his chest slightly exposed. Jacqueline soon sat up as well, holding the bedcovers to her person protectively. The maid, Claudia, gasped in surprise, and flushed at their lack of modesty. Jacqueline kissed Enjolras and he pulled her close. They continued to kiss and touch for a while, until Claudia cleared her throat.

"Mademoiselle," she stated. "You must get ready for the opera! And you too, M'sieur!"

Enjolras snatched his clothes and managed somewhat to dress under the covers, climbing out with his shirt barely tucked into his trousers, and his waistcoat and coat draped over one arm, his shoes in the other hand. He leaned over, kissed Jacqueline's forehead, and left, only to crash into Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who were chatting just outside the room.

"Mon Dieu!" Enjolras exclaimed. "How long have you two been out here?" Courfeyrac grinned and Combeferre sighed.

"Long enough," they replied in unison, though Courfeyrac's tone was much more amused than Combeferre's, who seemed in shock. Enjolras groaned, and Courfeyrac just smiled more.

"Oh! We heard that too!" he added. Enjolras glared at him and Combeferre sighed.

"What do you two need?" Enjolras asked.

"Are we still going to the opera? We need to know," Combeferre answered.

"Yes. I was just going to change. Good evening, gentlemen."

An hour later, Enjolras emerged in his evening clothes, which was made up of black trousers, a white shirt, a white waistcoat, black coat, and, most peculiarly, a red cravat. But quickly, after consideration, he went back into his room and changed his waistcoat from a white one to a red one. When he he returned to the hallway, he saw Jacqueline in her pale pink evening gown, and smiled. She fluttered over to him, carrying her fan in her gloved hands.

"How do I look?" She spun around slowly, and Enjolras smiled.

"Lovely. Beautiful. Stunning." He could've gone on, but he didn't.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac joined the two and the four of them left for the chaise. Grantaire was the last to come, scrambling into the chaise at the very last minute.

"What is tonight's opera?"

"_Robert le Diable_ by Meyerbeer. It's only about a year old, actually," Combeferre noted.

"Thank you, Combeferre," Enjolras stated.

When they arrived at the opera, they went to the _new_ official presidential box, Box Five. Jacqueline sat to the right of Enjolras, holding his hand. The audience below looked up at them curiously, but soon ignored them as the opera started

Afterwards, everyone convened in the main foyer, where Jacqueline and Enjolras diplomatically talked with bourgeoisie, and the managers of the opera.

Upon returning home, Jacqueline once again slept in Enjolras' room, though around midnight other... happenings were taking place in his room.

"Chretien..." Jacqueline murmured while in his arms after an especially heated embrace. "I love you. I truly do. Do you love me?"

"... I..."

* * *

**CHRETIEN! NO! Tell her you love her!**

**Now, question: Should Jackie and Enj have a baby at some point? And if so, when? I've been contemplating it for a while, and I'd like some feedback. **

**Next chapter will have the start of the major drama; a bourgeoisie uprising.**

**Review y'all!**

**~Class**


	12. Chapter 12

**The big chapter is here: Will Enjolras say "I love you" back? Let's find out...**

* * *

The silence hurt, Jacqueline noted, but she knew better than to let it get to her. Enjolras was a very inner person, she found, when it came to emotions. And Jacqueline was no stranger to hiding emotions. She knew how to quite well. She remembered having to block every foul thought from her mind, every trace of pain, on her nights on the streets. It was painful, she knew, but it had been necessary. She couldn't show weakness; weakness meant easy prey to the men who prowled the streets at night.

But she also knew that emotions became built up, until they burst forth like a volcano of feeling; something that would happen to Enjolras soon enough. Moments like those had always been painful for Jacqueline; she had spent more than one night curled up on a filthy, tattered blanket crying. She had cried about everything; her dead father, her orphaned and abandoned brother, her own fate... Though Enjolras' influx of emotion would have nothing to do with crying. He would be passionate and full of... love? She hoped it would be love.

Enjolras didn't know what to say. He knew he felt something, but... _what_? He had no idea how he felt. He knew he enjoyed her; his time spent with her today had been an awakening to him in many different ways. He was surprised how easy it was to make love to her; they had synced easier than breathing, both knowing what the other wanted almost automatically. Enjolras didn't know what to truly make of the experience, but... he knew it had been better than good. Courfeyrac probably would've considered it a "religious experience". But for him, it had been... different. Enjolras was, in all honesty, overwhelmed.

He reached for Jacqueline - who had turned away from him - longing to feel her nestled against him once more. Enjolras touched her shoulder and she shrugged his hand away. Suddenly, something struck him. Sadness? Disappointment? Enjolras thought and realized that the feeling he had was... _hurt_. Painful hurt that made him feel hollow and broken. He quietly settled into bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he thought even more. Enjolras wanted to make it up to her, but he wasn't sure how to go about doing so. He wasn't even quite sure what he would be making up for, but he knew he had to do _something_.

The next morning, to Jacqueline's surprise, a large chest was brought in during breakfast and opened in front of her. Inside, there were cashmere shawls in every color, and thick fur stoles that were soft to the touch. Her eyes shined like a child's during Christmas. It had cost Enjolras a small fortune to have the items delivered so quickly, but the look on Jacqueline's face made him hope she would forgive him for not saying anything.

"Do you like them?" he questioned. Jacqueline turned to him.

"They are very nice," she replied curtly.

Gustave frowned at his sister. "Nice? M. Chretien probably spent a fortune on these!" Jacqueline glared at him.

"Gustave, it is impolite to talk of people's financial interests," she chided.

"No, no. It's no insult to me; it did cost me a fortune though." Enjolras looked to Jacqueline hopefully, but she just frowned.

"Well, showering me with expensive gifts isn't going to fix anything." She quickly got up from the table and went upstairs, ignoring Enjolras' shouts for her to return.

* * *

Meanwhile, just a stone's throw away from the Presidential Palace, a group of wealthy, bourgeoisie men were sharing their grievances about the new president.

"He has hiked up our taxes to a point of ridiciulousness!" the leader, Michel Brossard, declared. "Action must be taken! Our way of life must be restored!" Shouts of agreement filled the abandoned building that was their meeting place. "And do you know how he spends our tax money? He wastes it on his stupid whore! Alain, tell us what he ordered at FOUR IN THE MORNING!"

Another man, Alain Delorme, stood. He was a wealthy merchant, who traded with Germany and other eastern countries for furs and with India for cashmere. "M. le Président ordered twelve cashmere shawls, and six fur stoles for his mistress this morning, and paid extra for the items to be delivered by breakfast," he told the group. The men yelled and hollered to express their distaste.

"You know," Brossard said, standing, "if we take the whore, perhaps he will pay us for her safe return."

The other men nodded in agreement.

"Isn't that risky?" Delorme inquired. "If we aren't successful, it's our heads, Michel."

"Then we'll just have to wait."

"For what?"

"For the girl to get pregnant."

"Why would that help us?" Alain asked.

"Lover and child equals more money for us, my friend."

* * *

Back at the Presidential Palace, Jacqueline was listening to Enjolras' pleadings for her to come out of her room.

"Please. Jacqueline, I... I... I love you. Please let me talk to you."

Jacqueline stepped out of her room, staring at him with wide eyes. "You... You do?" she mumbled. Enjolras quickly nodded.

"Yes. I'm sure now. Absolutely positive. And... I sent Gustave out with Combeferre for the day. Would you like to... uh..." Enjolras' face colored shyly, but Jacqueline knew what he wanted. She smiled at him and nodded, going up on her toes to kiss him. Enjolras scooped her up into his arms and carried her into his bedroom, closing the door with a well-placed kick.

He gently laid her down on the bed, watching as she smiled up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Enjolras chuckled and climbed on top of her, trying not to put too much of his weight over her. Like the night before, the two seemed to know exactly what the other wanted, and their passions seemed to bubble over. They spent the day in bed until dinner, and made sure Gustave went to bed early that night. Jacqueline was always nervous about Gustave; she didn't want him to know what she was doing at night, and if he was up, she was sure he'd figure it out.

That night, in Enjolras' mind, was better than the night before, and his heart raced constantly during every gasp and cry, and he shivered at every gentle touch. Making love to Jacqueline meant so much more than it had before, and he was glad.

"Chretien," Jacqueline murmured while he peppered her neck with soft, teasing kisses, "what if I end up... with child?" The question brought Enjolras back from his lovesick haze.

_"What if she ends up pregnant?" _he thought.

* * *

**OH boy... Here we go...**

**There is a poll on my profile to vote on when Jackie and Chretien have a baby, or even if they do have one.**

**Oh and the US Tour cast of Les Miz is amazing! I saw it yesterday; my director who organized the trip gave me a signed Playbill. I was so touched. **

**And... Icriedfourtimes... :(**

**Review?**

**~Class**


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay, so the majority of votes on my poll was for Jackie to find out she's pregnant around Christmastime! This is the big chapter, that I had to do a lot of research for because, well, I'm a 21st Century American, not a 19th Century Frenchman.**

**'Ferre will be making the diagnosis, and may use some phrases that could be found inappropriate, but it's just because he's a doctor.**

* * *

"A-Are you sure that's it?" Jacqueline's voice trembled softly, staring at Combeferre. Combeferre calmly removed his glasses and nodded.

"From what you've described. . . yes. The nausea, vomiting, fatigue, tenderness of the breasts, and, most importantly, that you didn't have your monthly course this month... I'd say there's no other thing it could be. You did say you were regular, with your courses, correct?"

"Yes," Jacqueline replied. "Every twenty-nine to thirty days. No more, no less, usually. It's been forty-five days since..." Her face colored; although she knew she could trust Combeferre, it was awkward speaking of such private things with a man.

"I see. And that would be about two weeks late; I suppose we could wait and see what January brings, but for now... Congratulations, Jacqueline," he stated, though he knew how ashamed she must feel to be expecting a child out of wedlock.

To make things worse, Enjolras wasn't going to be home until the twenty-forth; Christmas Eve. She would have to wait five days to tell him. And to be honest, she didn't want to. He was already almost too busy for her; any child of theirs would hardly ever see their father. And what of marriage? He would never allow her to have the child without marrying her first. And if he didn't marry her, what torment would the child experience? What torment would _Enjolras_ experience? He would never embrace the child properly if it were born a bastard; and the public would look upon the poor thing as filth. Jacqueline almost wished for a miscarriage as she thought, but one thing stopped her; the thrilling, albeit terrifying, thought that she was carrying the president's baby.

The rest of her day was spent making a secret shopping list of things to order or buy for the baby, and preparing the Presidential Palace for Enjolras' return. She fought the nausea and fatigue as she ordered the servants to make the palace look more cheerful and more in the spirit of the season. Small decorations were put up; fir branches and bits of holly, but Jacqueline soon realized something was missing.

"Do we have a _crèche?"_ Jacqueline inquired. Gustave, who had been lounging the whole day, trying to focus on his reading assignment from his tutor, jolted up.

"No _crèche_?" he exclaimed in shock. One of the maids shook her head.

"No. We don't have one. I had asked Monsieur le Président if he would've liked one, and he told me no."

Jacqueline put her hands on her hips and sighed. "Alright. I'll have to talk to him; maybe next year we can put one out."

Five days quickly came and went, and at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, Enjolras returned from his long trip. He was greeted merrily by all who had missed him; Jacqueline especially. She embraced him last and for the longest. Enjolras quickly grew concerned. She had never been clingy and needy, but all of sudden... she wouldn't let go.

"Is something wrong?" he murmured. Jacqueline shook her head.

"No, no... I'm fine. W-We're fine..." she stepped away and placed his hand on her stomach, her eyes meeting his with a knowing look. Though he couldn't feel anything that made it obvious, he knew what she was trying to tell him. Enjolras fell to his knees and was silent for a moment. Jacqueline bit her lip, and made a silent prayer.

His response was shocking: Enjolras gently rested his forehead against her stomach and began to... cry. Jacqueline, too, fell to her knees and held him. Soon, they were holding each other, the both of them crying. Gustave came out to find them in that embrace, and just watched them silently.

"A... A child..." Enjolras choked. "Our... Our child... Jacqueline... I..."

"I know..." she murmured softly. "I know... It's scary and unclear, but-"

"We'll have to marry," Enjolras pointed out. Jacqueline nodded. "And I want to marry as soon as possible. The quicker we do, the more people will believe I got you pregnant on our wedding night."

Jacqueline thought for a moment. "The twenty-sixth. It's probably the closest we'll get to today." Enjolras nodded in agreement.

"I'll arrange it tonight; after midnight mass," he decided.

After that statement, Gustave ran inside and went into his room. He refused to come out. Jacqueline finally gave up and left him up there, leaving for mass with Enjolras (who was secretly dreading mass; he was privately a deist, following the traditions of Voltaire, Robespierre and Rousseau).

When the two arrived together, the whole church seemed to turn and look at them. Jacqueline shyly took her seat, while Enjolras found his next to Marius.

The priest went through the normal Midnight Mass ceremony, and Enjolras let out a sigh of relief when they were finally released. He had asked Marius to arrange for he and Jacqueline to be married; Enjolras wasn't quite comfortable with addressing a man of the clergy. He hadn't spoken to a priest since he was a boy, and he had remembered arguing with the man and getting in trouble upon returning home. Marius had always been more religious and devout than the rest of them, except for perhaps Combeferre, who, although he didn't claim a church, was very much interested in Christianity. Enjolras supposed that they were all technically Catholic, but would be the last to admit as much.

Marius reported to him that the priest would "gladly marry the president and his fiancée" and that he had been glad to see them both in attendance this evening.

That night, Enjolras and Jacqueline shared a bed, but did nothing but sleep.

Tomorrow's events were too much to comprehend.

* * *

**So that's this chapter; sorry about the religion details. I was trying to figure out how they would practice, and I couldn't help myself with making Enjolras a deist. I don't think Hugo gives him a religion of sorts, but I can imagine him being into deism, since all the politicians I mentioned were deists. Yeah...**

**Review por favor?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello everyone! Anyone else having Les Mis feels today? No? Well, I'm having very infectious Aaronjolras Tveit feels at the moment. (I'm not kidding; all the pictures of him from the film just make me want to... ugh... HE'S SO GORGEOUS!)**

**So Enjy is full-on Aaronjolras (or Hotjolras, if you prefer) this chapter, not some weird Karimloo-Tveit blonde lovechild or something...**

* * *

Christmas Day brought excitement and cheer to almost every person in the Presidential Palace; everyone except Jacqueline, who was in bed, feeling particularly ill that morning (for reasons that she refused to reveal). So Gustave and Enjolras celebrated on their own, Gustave happily playing with the toy soldiers Enjolras and Jacqueline had gotten for him. Around noon, the two of them went upstairs to check on Jacqueline, who was sitting up and attempting to eat. Gustave was openly concerned for his sister; he had heard her conversation with Enjolras the night before, and although it upset him, he still loved his sister. Jacqueline smiled warmly at the two of them, and Enjolras sat down at the edge of the bed, taking her hand.

"How are you feeling?" he questioned. Jacqueline shrugged.

"I'm fine, I suppose..." she mumbled. "Just tired."

"You ought to rest, then," Enjolras stated. Gustave watched, but his conscience was bothering him; he had to tell them he knew.

"Jackie... I-I have something to tell you," he mumbled. Jacqueline's eyebrows scrunched together, and she motioned for him to come closer.

"What, Gustave? Is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?" she inquired.

"I know about the baby, Jackie. I... I heard you and Mssr. Chretien talking about it last night."

Jacqueline's eyes widened and Enjolras sat there in shock. Gustave looked down at his feet, but eventually shuffled over, giving his sister a comforting hug. Jacqueline hugged him back, and sighed. Enjolras stood up, checking his pocket watch.

"It's noon... I have to go meet with Combeferre..."

Jacqueline frowned. "Honestly? Chretien, it's Christmas Day. You can take a day off; France can wait."

Enjolras shook his head. "No," he told her, "my duties are year-round. Even a holiday like today cannot keep me from my work."

Jacqueline wanted to argue with him, but she knew better. She reclined back, trying to rest despite the sudden wave of nausea that hit her as she did so. Gustave left the room, going downstairs to read for a bit.

Meanwhile, Enjolras and Combeferre were discussing issues that had arisen between the bourgeois and their administration. Courfeyrac was also sitting in on the conversation, listening intently to every word.

"They claim you have made their taxes too high," Combeferre stated. "They are demanding to at least know how their money is being used."

"Free healthcare, public education, improvement of public sanitation," Enjolras listed the things as if he could do so in his sleep. "Tell them to go walk the streets that were formerly slums. Then they can decide if their tax money is being used appropriately or not."

"But that is the issue," Courfeyrac interrupted. "The outer appearance of those streets has changed, sure, but the pimps and prostitutes are becoming more sophisticated. Those nice residential homes are brothels, and the bourgeois are not ignorant to that fact." Enjolras sighed and rubbed his temples.

"But what about all the advancements in healthcare we've made?" Combeferre inquired. "I've worked so hard... And I know how much money we've put into it..." Enjolras patted his back comfortingly; they all knew how hard Combeferre had been working, and he had experienced great success so far. But criticisms from the Bourgeois were wearing on all of them, Combeferre especially.

"I fear there is no immediate solution," Enjolras decided. "There will always be critics when it comes to politics. But we must not focus on them, for their criticisms will only affect our capabilities of doing our jobs properly."

"Wise words, my friend," Courfeyrac agreed.

"So our meeting is adjourned, I suppose?" Combeferre questioned, standing up from his seat. Enjolras nodded and stood as well. The three exchanged farewells and went about their days as usual. Combeferre visited children's hospitals the rest of the day, bringing the children little toys and sweets for Christmas. Courfeyrac sat around at home for the rest of the day, spending quality time with his wife.

As for Enjolras, he spent his day picking up all the extra work the others had left for him to handle. (Well, the other Amis intended to take care of everything the twenty-sixth, but Enjolras wasn't one to waste time.) At six, Jacqueline went downstairs, finally feeling much better, to find him working furiously on some speech that Jean Prouvaire had left unfinished. She stepped closer to him, and gently rested her chin on his shoulder, watching him work. Enjolras hardly noticed her until he turned around to see her. She could see he was stressed; his coat had been thrown carelessly onto a chair, his waistcoat was unbuttoned, as were the top few buttons of his shirt, his cravat hanging loosely; Enjolras' hair was also even more unkept than usual, as if he had run his hand through it more than nesscessary, and his eyes shone wildly, exhaustion having been battled fiercely by him for the past hour.

"Chretien..." she murmured gently, resting a hand on his chest. "Supper's been ready for half an hour. You need to eat."

"In a moment," he said, turning back to his work. "Damn... Could Jehan use any more metaphors in this? Even I am lost in the meaning of this..." The sound of a pen scratching out multiple lines of the speech filled the room as Jacqueline watched him work.

"Chretien, please... Come eat. Monsieur Lecanu made Lobster Bisque... and Ratatouille... your favorite..." Jacqueline pleaded gently.

"In a MOMENT, I said!" Enjolras barked. Jacqueline shrunk back.

"Alright," she mumbled. "Starve for all I care..."

And with that, Jacqueline left for dinner, and ate alone (Gustave disliked the main two courses that night, and had snacked all day to avoid having to eat supper that night). As with her dinner, Jacqueline also retired for the night alone.

At about midnight, she woke and went downstairs to find Enjolras still working fervently, ink bottles knocked over, broken pens thrown everywhere, and one president seething while hunched over a desk. Jacqueline sighed and walked in, gently taking his hand and leading him upstairs. He was much too tired to protest, and he fell asleep that night almost instantly.

The next morning, the two returned to the small church where they had attended midnight mass. They were greeted by the priest, along with Marius and Cosette, who were to later be witnesses when Enjolras and Jacqueline signed a marriage certificate after the traditional wedding ceremony.

Enjolras nervously bit the inside of his cheek as the priest began to speak.

"Chretien and Jacqueline, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?" The priest questioned.

"Yes," they answered.

"Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

"Yes."

"Will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the laws of Christ and his Church?"

"Yes."

The two then exchanged vows and rings, Enjolras' hand trembling slightly as he slipped his mother's ring on Jacqueline's small finger. For both of them, the rest of the ceremony passed in a haze and soon they were home, signing their marriage certificate. Gustave quickly joined the two afterwards, embracing his sister, who had suddenly begun to cry.

"What's the matter?" Gustave asked. Jacqueline smiled slightly.

"It's just..." she looked to Enjolras. "I never thought this day would come... I-I had lost all hope of being married..."

Enjolras smiled at her and she released Gustave, embracing her husband instead.

Once Gustave had gone to bed, Jacqueline and Enjolras retired as well, Enjolras carrying her upstairs into their bedroom, somehow managing to close the door behind them.

* * *

**Awwwww:) **

**And I apologize to any Catholics reading this; I am not Catholic, therefore I had to look up all the stuff for Enj and Jackie's wedding (most of which I just put in very simple terms...)**

**So yeah...**

**Review?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone! This chapter is going to be a few months into Jackie's pregnancy, so we get to see how she's dealing with everything, and how Enjy is doing...**

**Random thought of the day: In a Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat revival, would Aaron Tveit make a good Joseph? I think he would...**

* * *

Six months after marrying, everything was going quite well for Enjolras and Jacqueline. They had announced a month after marrying that Jacqueline was pregnant, and the public had rejoiced for their quick luck. But as her pregnancy progressed and she began to show earlier than the public had suspected, they began to grow suspicious. But Jacqueline ignored the gossip, and, with the help of Cosette, began to prepare a nursery for the baby.

"Oh, you must be so excited!" Cosette exclaimed cheerfully. "When Marius and I found out we were going to have a baby, we were so happy... And Jean is just a little angel; I hope your little darling will be as sweet as ours." Cosette had given birth to a son the month before, and the little boy's name was Jean-Georges Pontmercy, a tribute to both of the child's grandfathers.

"I am excited," Jacqueline said. "But I'm also nervous... Chretien is excited as well; probably more so than I am!"

"Oh, he will be a wonderful father! Protective, too, especially if it's a little girl!"

Jacqueline laughed and rubbed her swollen belly lovingly. "I'm hoping for a girl, to be honest. I've even picked out a name for her; Marianne." Cosette smiled and clapped merrily.

"That's a lovely name!"

"What is?" Enjolras inquired, leaning in the doorframe. Jacqueline turned to him and embraced him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

"The name I've chosen for the baby," she told him. "Marianne." Enjolras chuckled.

"But what if we have a boy?" he questioned. Jacqueline thought for a moment.

"Chretien. What else?" she stated as if it were perfectly obvious. Enjolras shook his head.

"No. I'm not passing on that name. How about... Aurèle?" Enjolras suggested. Jacqueline smiled.

"How wonderful! Such a beautiful name..." Jacqueline sighed.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Cosette questioned. Enjolras chuckled slightly and shrugged.

"I suppose so. I'll see you at dinner, Jacqueline." Enjolras kissed his wife's cheek, gave Cosette a brief nod, then exited, heading to his study.

When he was not even fifteen minutes into reading some Voltaire, Courfeyrac waltzed in, looking slightly amused, slightly tired.

"Jacqueline demands that we all go see Don Giovanni tonight at the opera," he told him. "But she also demands that none of us sit with her." He chuckled heartily and Enjolras groaned; since month three of Jacqueline's pregnancy, she had been a whirlwind of emotion, and Enjolras was still struggling to adjust. But Combeferre had assured him that she would be mellowing out soon, as the birth of the baby approached.

"Alright. I'll sit with her. She'll put up with me, and besides, she'll probably get tired and have to leave by the second act," Enjolras explained. Courfeyrac chuckled once more at the mere thought of poor Jacqueline, six months into her pregnancy, leaving the opera with Chretien, people staring at her swollen stomach.

"I'll tell her we'll be going tonight," and with that, Courfeyrac left.

At six o'clock, they all left for the opera; they being Enjolras, Jacqueline, Courfeyrac and Combeferre. When they arrived at the opera, Jacqueline made no protest about sitting with everyone, and watched the opera in awe. Enjolras couldn't help but watch her watching the opera; the way her eyes shone the entire time made him feel so happy. He hoped her eyes would shine like that when their child was born.

To be honest, he hoped for a daughter. Enjolras wished for a little girl, because he knew how much Jacqueline wanted their baby to be a girl. Most men hoped for sons; boys to carry on the family. But Enjolras knew that if Jacqueline wasn't happy, nobody would be happy. So he too hoped for a little girl. The most amusing part of the night had been when Jacqueline talked to the baby during the opera; ever since the baby had begun to move two months ago, Jacqueline had made a point to talk to him or her. The audience had been openly amused as well, for most of them had been watching her in the first place, and the notion of a pregnant woman talking to her unborn child seemed so peculiar that it was laughable. Jacqueline took it in stride, though, standing up and waving to the crowd, rubbing her stomach lovingly for them to see. The crowd loved it; most of society adored the president and his wife, for their youth and optimism was uplifting to all of them.

"I finally figured out a middle name for her," Jacqueline whispered to Enjolras during the final act. "Her name shall be Marianne Celeste."

Enjolras thought over the name for a moment. "It doesn't have quite the ring to it I was hoping for..."

"Well I'm sorry not all names can sound as good as Chretien Alexandre Enjolras!" Jacqueline exclaimed angrily.

"Marianne Celeste Enjolras..." Enjolras once again pondered the name. "You know, it is a lovely name. I would love for our daughter to be named that. And," he added, "if we have a son, I already have a name picked out. Aurèle Maxilmilien."

"Honestly?" Jacqueline sighed in exasperation. "You want me to name my son - if we have a son, mind you - after Robespierre?"

"Only his middle name!" Enjolras defended. "And we'll hardly ever use that!"

"We're not naming him after a psychopath!"

"Oh, it's not like we're naming him Louis-Antoine!"

"Still! Robespierre was fairly insane as well!"

"Don't you dare insult Robespierre! I admire the man!" Enjolras argued.

"Obviously, since you want to name a son after him!"

Enjolras sighed. "Well it'll be a girl, so we have nothing to worry about."

Jacqueline smiled. "Exactly."

* * *

**DAWWWWW! Those two! Fighting over baby names...! So cute! **

**Review?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello again! This chapter includes the arrival of Baby Marianne and the first appearance of the "Presidential Family" a few months later...**

**So here we go...**

* * *

_August 26th, 1833_

Enjolras watched as Jacqueline waddled around the sitting room looking for her embroidery, despite the fact that Combeferre had ordered bed rest for her for the month of August. But his wife was a stubborn woman, and no man would want her chasing after him in rage; even though she wasn't very menacing with her swollen belly and "motherly glow". Many prominent Parisians had been calling on the président and his wife in the past few months; many bringing baby gifts and kind words to "Madame Enjolras". The people found her to be charming, while her husband seemed to be a more reclusive man; usually sitting quietly in thought while guests were entertained by Jacqueline. But as the end of August approached, the stream of visitors dwindled, and eventually came to a complete stop, for the family had requested privacy as the birth of their first child drew nearer and nearer. Gustave had been sent to live with Combeferre when the school year began; the doctor still lived in the Latin Quarter and was seeing to Gustave's education with the help of Chretien and Jacqueline. Gustave was attending a school that once saw Voltaire, Robespierre, Camille Desmoulins, and the new author, Victor Hugo, enter through its doors. But of course, accepting the brother of the president's wife had been no pain to the school.

Combeferre reported to them daily; telling them of Gustave's talents for Latin and Mathematics, and his surprising skills in writing. But he was struggling with Civics; confusing Robespierre with Rousseau, and not understanding the importance of National Conventions and the like. Enjolras planned to talk to him; perhaps when he came to see the baby. It was vital for Gustave to get decent marks in politics; if he didn't, it would reflect poorly on Jacqueline and himself. So Combeferre had began to tutor him in an attempt to at least get him average marks in Civics before Enjolras intervened.

But August 26th was different; as Enjolras and Jacqueline soon found out. Once Jacqueline located her embroidery, there was the task of bending over and picking it up. She reached it, but the sudden motion seemed to affect her. Jacqueline rushed to the water closet, which was down the hall, and when she emerged, Enjolras was waiting outside.

"Is everything alright?" he questioned. Jacqueline stared at him intensely.

"Depends on what you mean by alright..." she mumbled. "Because my water just broke."

Enjolras' eyes widened and he led Jacqueline into a bedroom, leaving her with Combeferre and an older maid while he went to find the midwife. When he returned with the midwife, Madame Michel, Combeferre was trying to calm Jacqueline.

"Jacqueline," he murmured in a calm voice, "I need you to breathe. It'll be over much quicker if you breathe." Jacqueline began to take deep breaths, although she was obviously in pain. Madame Michel frowned deeply.

"Why do you need me here when you have a doctor?" she asked Enjolras. Enjolras sighed.

"It isn't proper for a man to deliver a baby," he replied. "Nor is it proper for me to be in here, so I'll leave..." Enjolras quitted the room and went to the sitting room, where he waited for twelve hours for news about Jacqueline and the baby. Around one-eighteen in the morning, he could've sworn he had heard a faint little cry from down the hall, but he didn't move. And at two, the maid who had been with Jacqueline brought out a little bundle; an infant wrapped in a towel.

"Monsieur le Président," she stated. "You have a daughter." The maid placed the little baby in his arms and he smiled down at her. Suddenly he had a thought.

"May I see my wife?" Enjolras inquired. The maid smiled.

"Why yes, of course..." She led him down the hall and they entered the bedroom. Jacqueline was lying in bed, her hair tied back away from her face, and her eyebrows were scrunched together in an aftershock like look.

"She's beautiful, love," Enjolras whispered to her, kissing her cheek.

"She looks like you."

Enjolras tenderly touched the newborn's wispy golden hair. The small, thin blonde locks that were gently scattered around the top of the newborn's head were already beginning to gently curl. Jacqueline watched him interact with the little girl and she smiled softly.

"Marianne..." Enjolras murmured to the baby. "That's your name, darling. And I'm your papa. Your maman and I love you very much, and we love each other very much, so we'll always take care of you."

"May I hold her?" Jacqueline asked. Enjolras placed the sleeping baby in her arms, and Jacqueline began to talk to her. "And I'm your mama, and I love you more than I can say... You are so beautiful, even though you're less than a day old... And you're going to be the most beautiful girl in all of France."

The little family appeared weeks later in the Place de la Concorde. People crowded around them, trying to see little Marianne. Jacqueline waved to the crowd and Enjolras diplomatically stood next to her, an arm protectively around her. A man in the back watched them cautiously, and when Jacqueline was taking Marianne for a walk in the Tuileries in the stroller she had gotten from Monsieur Enjolras, he followed them. Enjolras was off meeting with some American ambassador, who would be taking a letter to the American president, Andrew Jackson. The ambassador would translate it and deliver the translation to Jackson, while the original French copy would be kept in the Library of Congress.

Marianne began to cry and Jacqueline lifted her out of the stroller, sitting down on a bench and trying to soothe her; she hoped she wasn't hungry, for she knew the broadsheet writers would never leave her alone if she nursed in public.

The man who had been following her took it as his chance and grabbed her and the baby, tossing a note into the stroller before dragging Jacqueline away, but not before rendering her unconscious.

A few hours later, Enjolras returned home to find that his wife had not returned home yet. He remembered that she and Marianne had gone for a walk in the Tuileries, so he quickly ran down the street to the gardens. He found the stroller and the crudely written note in it. He opened the note and read it.

_Monsieur le Président,_

_If you ever want to see your wife and child again, you will pass the bill offered by the bourgeois representatives in the National Convention that would lower taxes for the bourgeois. Your only other option is to meet us in Calais and leave for America. Consider it your exile. But you wouldn't want to be like 'Buonaparte', would you?_

_Pass the bill or leave. It's your choice, but it means their lives._

* * *

**_DUN DUN DUNNNNN! Cliffies!_**

**_review?_**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello everyone! This chapter is Enjolras' "badass" chapter; dedicated to Aaronjolras, who is a badass in the film.**

**X)**

* * *

Enjolras crumpled up the letter and threw it on the ground, then ran out onto the street. He stopped the first mounted police inspector he saw; luckily, the man stopped. But he would not dismount. Enjolras frowned deeply, but knew he had to keep calm for his own sake.

"Monsieur Inspector, if you would please dismount," he requested. The inspector did so, and Enjolras quickly mounted the horse and rode off in the direction of what had been the secret meeting place of Bourgeois rebels months ago. The rebels were no more; Enjolras was sure of that, but like any man in his situation, he was afraid, and had thought of all the possibilities at length. He figured it was a remaining bourgeois, someone they hadn't found. And whoever had taken Jacqueline and Marianne had been angry enough - or mad enough - to take action.

Enjolras rode down the street, going at a haphazardly fast speed; but he didn't care. He had been an accomplished rider in his youth, and riding was almost as second nature as public speaking to him. When he arrived at the old abandoned building, a little gamine was sitting outside, watching him with a terrified look in her eyes. Enjolras dismounted and walked up to the little girl. He kneeled in front of her, trying to soften his expression. The little girl stared at him with wide eyes.

"Has a man come here with a woman and a baby?" he inquired. The little girl did not answer. He sighed and smiled at her. "You can tell me, little one. I will not hurt you."

"Yessir. There was a man, and he was carrying a lady. And the lady was holding a little baby, M'sieur. But I don't think the baby was very healthy; it was cryin', y'see. I almost asked the man if 'e needed help, I have two brothers littler than me, but he seemed... disturbed, M'sieur..."

Enjolras patted the little girl's head and gave her a few coins in return. He entered the abandoned building, and followed the sounds of crying upstairs. When he reached the landing of the second floor, he saw Jacqueline lying on the floor like a rag doll, and Marianne lying next to her, wailing madly. Enjolras ran to his wife and daughter, cradling Marianne and trying to wake Jacqueline.

"Chretien Enjolras..." a voice purred from a dark corner. Enjolras turned in the direction of the voice and a foppish young man, no older than Enjolras himself emerged from the dark corner. Enjolras recognized the man, and held Marianne closer.

"Montparnasse," he snarled. "I thought you were dead." Montparnasse chuckled darkly and eyed Jacqueline.

"Such a shame she wasted herself on you," Montparnasse pondered aloud. "I would love to have a go at her..."

"Over my dead body," Enjolras growled. Montparnasse chuckled.

"That could be arranged."

Enjolras put Marianne down, took a deep, heavy breath, and pulled a pistol out of his coat. He'd carried one since the bourgeois had made threats on his and Jacqueline's lives, but he had never thought he'd have to use it. He calmly fired at Montparnasse, a bullet ripping through the murderer's heart. Enjolras sighed. He had grown sick of death, but Montparnasse had been asking for it.

Putting away the pistol, he picked up Jacqueline, placing Marianne in her lap while he carried her bridal style back home. Combeferre saw to Jacqueline, while a maid brought a bottle with fresh milk in it for Marianne. Enjolras held her as he tried to get her to have her bottle, but little Marianne wouldn't have it. Fortunately, Jacqueline woke soon after, so he could take Marianne to her.

Once the little baby's needs were met, Marianne fell asleep, nestled in her mother's arms. Enjolras, too, fell asleep. The passing week had been a long one for him, and he desperately needed rest. Jacqueline watched him sleep, and was amazed at how young he looked when he slept. His blonde curls were as wild as usual, but his face had a gentle calm to it. He would go grey early, she imagined; he was always so stressed that it would become inevitable. But being his wife would probably make Jacqueline grey early as well, she supposed.

But now, they were new parents, with a beautiful baby girl who was the light of their lives. Jacqueline thought of the future; about what would happen when Enjolras wasn't président. Perhaps they would move to the country; she had always loved leaving the city with her father and Gustave as a young girl. But Enjolras would probably want to stay in the city to stay involved with politics. She would settle in the city, then, in a cozy little home with a nice garden. They would raise Marianne there, and perhaps another. Maybe a little boy with big green eyes and brown curls. But if they had another girl, Jacqueline would not complain. She enjoyed her daughter, and if she was blessed with another, she would not feel cheated. But she figured Enjolras wanted a son, so she too hoped for one.

When Enjolras woke up, Marianne, too, woke, and the little girl watched her papa, viewing him in the world of soft shapes and strange shades of color seen by very young infants like Marianne. She cooed up at him softly, and Jacqueline watched the two interact with a smile on her face. Enjolras was a wonderful father; he didn't seem the type, Jacqueline figured, but he did quite well.

"Hello, Marianne," Enjolras murmured, stroking the little girl's cheek. "You are a beautiful little girl. The most beautiful little girl in Paris, if not all of France. Your mama and I love you so, so much. And your mama loves you too."

"That's right," Jacqueline agreed. "We love you very, very much, Marianne, and we'll always take care of you. Always, always, always." She kissed the baby's cheek and Marianne giggled softly.

"She's so perfect," Enjolras whispered to Jacqueline.

"She is. But not as perfect as her papa."

* * *

**Awwwwww! I loved the bonding at the end...**

**And omg, Enjy-the-Badass. I guess no one messes with his family...**

**Review?**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey guys! I'm so excited for this chapter; it's two years after the last one, and reelection is nearing. So what does Enjolras do? He pulls a JFK and uses his family to reel in voters. And Jacqueline has some news that definitely earns them more popularity...**

* * *

"Mama!" Marianne shrieked from her place on the floor. "Wuvs? Wuvs?" Jacqueline smiled and picked up the little two-year-old, who was the most pampered thing in the world. Marianne hardly ever had to walk around the palace; everyone, from Enjolras to Combeferre to Grantaire, loved to hold her, so she was always being carried from place to place. It wasn't a difficult task, either, for the toddler was still the size of a doll, and was most possibly the sweetest thing in the world. She was constantly asking to be hugged and to be cuddled with, and it did not matter who she asked, for everyone in the palace was wrapped around her little fingers. Her parents spoiled her to no end, as did her grandfather, who had begun to visit often because of his granddaughter.

While Jacqueline entertained Marianne, a large quantity of gifts were being brought up from M. Enjolras for the little girl's birthday. Marianne, although she had already turned two, hadn't received many presents yet, except for a pretty dress and bonnet from her mother and father to wear when they went out. So when the multitude of boxes and such were brought into the sitting room, the little girl's eyes lit up. Jacqueline's eyes widened as well, amazed that M. Enjolras had spent so much money on little Marianne. Marianne tore through the boxes, but the new baby bonnets, dresses and baby dolls were all forgotten when Courfeyrac carried in a red poodle puppy. Marianne gasped in delight and ran past Courfeyrac, looking for her father. She burst into Enjolras' office and shrieked in delight before climbing into his lap.

"PAPA! WE GOT A PUPPYYYYY!" she exclaimed cheerfully. Enjolras' eyes widened in surprise and he picked her up, running into the sitting room where Courfeyrac was waiting with a wild little puppy.

"We got a dog?" Enjolras asked in shock. Courfeyrac chuckled and walked over to him.

"Yes; the boys and I all pooled our money and we bought a puppy while Jehan and I were visiting the Languedoc region earlier this month. We named her for you, sorry, but we had to do it so she could be trained early. We named her Patria," Courfeyrac explained. Enjolras sat down and watched as Marianne ran up to Courfeyrac, demanding that the puppy be put down.

"COURF! PUT. 'TWIA. DOWN." She stomped her little foot angrily. Courfeyrac grinned and let the puppy down. Patria pranced around Marianne, yipping and panting excitedly. Marianne clapped and giggled in glee, and chased Patria around the room. Jacqueline watched her with glee, remembering her childhood pet, Diana. Enjolras admired the little girl and dog, but was caught off-guard when Patria leapt into his lap. The tiny dog circled around three times then lay down. Enjolras scratched the dog behind the ears and sighed. Jackie stood up and walked over to him, a smile on her face. He looked up at her and smiled as well.

"Chretien, do you remember how you wanted a son?" Jacqueline questioned. Enjolras nodded; he had remembered hoping for a little boy when Jacqueline had first found out she was with child. "I'm glad you do. Because... I'm with child. So now you can hope for a little boy again." Marianne, who had keen, young ears, overheard, and turned to face her mother and father.

"Mama? You're having a... babee?" she asked. "A babee wike... dis?" Marianne held up her porcelain baby doll from M. Enjolras. Jacqueline smiled.

"Sort of, Marianne."

"So I gonna have a brudda or sithter?" Marianne inquired. Jacqueline nodded and Marianne shrieked in joy and clambered up into Jacqueline's lap. She hugged her mother and giggled to herself. "I wuv da babee..." Jacqueline stroked her curls and smiled warmly at her daughter. She kissed her forehead.

"I'm glad you like the baby, love," Jacqueline murmured. "Because once he or she is born, you'll be living with them until you move away and are married." Marianne stared at her mother, her eyes twinkling in wonderment, at the mere mentioning of the word married. To Marianne, like most little girls, marriage was something magical and wondrous; something out of a fairy tale. Jacqueline too, though a grown woman, found marriage to be wondrous and joyous. (Though one would suppose being married to Enjolras would be much like a fairy tale.)

Marianne soon changed the subject, but not in its entirety, by requesting to be told a bedtime story. "Mama, I'm sweepy," the little girl mumbled. "Wiwl you tell me Cinderwella?" Jacqueline laughed softly, in that gentle, amused, maternal way that all children recognize and all mothers are capable of doing.

"You've heard that one many times, darling. Wouldn't you like a different one?" Jacqueline inquired.

"No," Marianne replied. "Cinderwella is my favorite. And Belle is scary..." Marianne referred to Beauty and the Beast simply as "Belle", for reasons none other than her littleness. Jacqueline rubbed her back soothingly.

"Alright. Cinderella it is. But first, let's get you ready for bed." Jacqueline carried Marianne into the nursery, and helped her into her little white nightgown. Marianne then crawled into her new bed; Combeferre had designed it and Grantaire had built it. They had made it because Jacqueline had seen no point in keeping Marianne in her cradle if she could so easily get out of it, but she didn't want a full-sized bed for her. So Combeferre sketched out a miniature bed, the perfect size for Marianne.

Needless to say, Marianne loved her little bed, and once she was settled under the covers, looked to her mama to hear Cinderella. Marianne stayed up for the whole story, listening, absolutely enchanted, as her mother told her the ancient fairy tale. At the end, Marianne sighed contentedly and nestled down into her blankets.

"I fink papa looks wike da pwince in Cinderwella..." Marianne mumbled drowsily. "I hear people say papa's handsome... Da pwince is handsome too..." Jacqueline brushed Marianne's curls back and listened to her adorable mumblings until Marianne fell asleep. Jacqueline kissed her forehead, and exited the nursery, going to her and Enjolras's bedroom. Enjolras was already in bed, reading a book silently. He had begun to wear spectacles, but only for reading, and Jacqueline found it rather amusing. They made him look old, and wise; and while he was intelligent and wise beyond his years, her twenty-five-year-old husband was not yet a truly wise man. And he certainly wasn't old; he would be old when he reached thirty. But there were times when Enjolras hardly looked a day past twenty; and Jacqueline envied his seemingly permanent youth. He looked up at her, and watched in a casual way as she undressed and joined him in bed. Jacqueline rested her chin on his shoulder, and read from his book. It was a translation of something about the American Revolution; he had probably asked Marius to translate it himself (the smart man knew English and German, and while Enjolras knew a fair amount of English, he preferred to read in French or, in some cases, Latin).

"Don't you ever tire?" Jacqueline sighed as she curled up on her side of the bed.

"No. Not really. But, I do need rest, for tomorrow will be a busy day."

"Why?"

"Reelections are coming and we're going on family outing to... campaign."

* * *

**Well, this ended up being more about Marianne and Jackie, and Marianne's love of the baby... But campaigning is coming up; I promise!**

**Review?**

**-Class**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey y'all! How awesome was that movie anyway? I loved it! Aaronjolras was flawless... His facial expressions... Beautiful...**

**Ahem. Anyway, Enjy's going campaigning today! Fun? Not really.**

* * *

"Jacqueline," Enjolras murmured softly. "Jacqueline, love, wake up. We're going out today, remember?" In response, Jacqueline pulled her pillow over her head and groaned. "Love, it's a beautiful day today. And now would be a great time to announce that we have another baby on the way."

"That's why I don't want to go out," she mumbled. "I'm exhausted. I'm hungry. I'm moody. My temperament is not correct for campaigning today." Enjolras sighed.

"What are you going to do when the Duchess of Kent arrives here from England tomorrow?" Enjolras questioned. Jacqueline moaned.

"I want nothing to do with that woman! It's her who wanted to come here! She is nothing but mutton masquerading as lamb!" Jacqueline cried. "She just wants to be considered fashionable just because she's met the young wife of France's Président." Enjolras sighed and climbed out of bed.

"I'll have Courfeyrac cancel the meeting if you have no desire to meet her."

The meeting was cancelled.

Enjolras quickly dressed and left, planning to try and earn some of the people's votes. But he soon found that most of the people only wanted to hear about Jacqueline or Marianne; sometimes both. Eventually he caught on, after trying multiple times to talk politics, that people were fascinated by him and his family. The youth they brought seemed to be a symbol of optimism for the people of Paris. Many asked how old Marianne was, or if they were expecting a second child. Others asked about Jacqueline, asking most usually about where she had her dresses made or where she bought her jewelry. Tons of questions were asked, and all were answered. Enjolras wasn't able to make it home until well into the evening. Jacqueline was awake and waiting for him in the sitting room. Her eyes looked tired, and there were dark circles underneath them, her hair was loose and wild - it was obvious she hadn't bothered with beauty that day. When she finally focused on him, Enjolras was saddened by her haggard appearance. She was so beautiful, but she was stunning when she tried.

"I'm so scared," she mumbled, "my mother died giving birth to her second child... I'm already feeling more worn and old with this one... What if my fate is to be no different than hers? I already feel forty just carrying this baby... and Marianne was such a difficult delivery... Chretien, if I die in childbirth, please do not block the children out like my father did. Take care of them. I'm begg-"

"Why are you talking like that?" he questioned. "You won't die giving birth, Jacqueline. You are such a strong woman; you've already given me a beautiful little girl. And now, we're hoping for a son. A son, remember?" Jacqueline just stared at him blankly. Jacqueline? What's gotten into you? What's wrong?"

"I didn't want to tell you," she began, "but people have been sending me rather nasty letters... Telling me I'm not worthy of you, that I'm nothing but an overpriced whore, th-that they hope this baby will be a miscarriage so that I don't bring another bastard child into the world..." Jacqueline burst into tears and wrapped her arms around her stomach, which was just beginning to bloat, and held herself - and, in a way, the baby - until she didn't feel anything anymore. Even Enjolras' arms were lacking their usual comfort; but one would suppose nothing would be comforting when anonymous people were sending cruel letters telling you that you shouldn't have your next child. Knowing that nothing would help, Enjolras simply carried Jacqueline into their bedroom and tucked her into bed. She looked up at him tiredly and grasped his hand.

"Make sure Marianne is in bed. And I'll go out with you tomorrow... Tell one of the maids to get out my red dress. I'll be up by ten," she mumbled weakly. "Marianne should wear her little white dress, the one with the pretty lace sleeves and embroidered pink flowers around the neck, and pair that with the matching bonnet and her little shoes." Suddenly, Marianne toddled in, rubbing her little tummy.

"Mamaaaa," she wailed, "mah tummy hurts..." Jacqueline sat up, all of the color returning to her face as Marianne climbed into the bed and let her rub her belly. "It hurts, Mama..." Jacqueline kissed her forehead and sang a lullaby to her until she finally fell asleep.

"She probably ate too many strawberries," Chretien chuckled. Little Marianne loved fruit, but her stomach was sensitive, so when she ate too many berries and the like her stomach would hurt. Marianne was curled up against her mother, sucking her thumb like an infant. Jacqueline gently brushed her curls away from her face and stroked her temple softly. Enjolras changed into his bedclothes as well and climbed in with them, his arms around the both of them. Marianne scooted closer to Jacqueline, who was already fast asleep. Chretien soon fell asleep too, relieved that Jacqueline felt better and that Marianne had been able to sleep despite her "tummy ache".

That morning, Enjolras sat up thinking. He had never been allowed to sleep in his parents bed. The only time had been when he was five, during a bad thunderstorm. He had ran into their room, and his father had been away in Paris. So his mother had allowed him to stay with her during the storm. He missed her so much; all his fondest childhood memories were of his mother. But his father had come around, and was much more kind than he had been while he was growing up. He imagined it was because of Marianne; the little girl had him wrapped around her finger.

When Jacqueline finally stirred, she immediately dressed and took Marianne back to her room to dress her. The two returned and Marianne giggled delightedly.

"Are we goin' into da city, papa?" Marianne questioned. Chretien chuckled and took her out of Jacqueline's arms and nodded.

"Yes, love. We're going on an outing today," he replied. "But I want you to walk today, alright? Papa can't always carry you around." Marianne's eyes began to water and Jacqueline quickly took her back, comforting her and rubbing her back.

"Let's head out," Jacqueline ordered. Chretien did as he was told, and the little family left for the streets.

People swarmed them almost immediately, and Chretien eagerly greeted every citizen, while Jacqueline happily answered all their questions. Marianne did too; waving two fingers in the air when asked her age, and telling people about "Patwia", her puppy. Gustave, who was home for the weekend, joined them, bringing Patria out on a leash. The puppy gleefully chased pigeons, causing Gustave to get dragged about. Marianne clapped and giggled, an action that captured the hearts of everyone in the crowd.

"Dats Gus-Gus and Patwia! Dey wike to pway together!" Marianne declared. Patria turned and ran straight to Marianne as soon as she heard her name, yipping and barking, demanding to be played with. Jacqueline put Marianne down, and the girl and her dog ran around the street. Jacqueline watched them cautiously; Marianne and Patria were so tiny that no carriage driver would be able to spy them. Patria curiously sniffed at people passing by, and most didn't pay her any mind. But a crotchety old man was Patria's next target. The man hit the poor dog with his walking stick. Marianne shouted at the man. "DON'T! DATS MY PUPPY! YOU HURTSES HER! SAY YOU'RE SOWWY!" Chretien came over and picked up Patria, who was whimpering sadly.

"Come inside, Marianne."

"Not until he says sowwy to Patwia!" Marianne shouted. The man scowled and walked away. Marianne chased after him. "SAY SOWWY! SAY. SOWWY!"

The man ignored her and Marianne retreated angrily. Combeferre bandaged the puppy, and Marianne got her a bowl of milk (even though her parents had told her that it was cats who liked milk). Patria lapped the milk up slowly, then curled up in Marianne's lap and fell asleep. Marianne mimicked Combeferre, constantly checking to make sure Patria was breathing. She was determined not to lose her puppy. Jacqueline watched the scene tenderly, and smiled to herself when Marianne, too, eventually fell asleep.

* * *

**AWW. Poor Patria... and Marianne... and Jackie...**

**Hey, y'all! Review, please?**

**All reviewers will receive a free Aaronjolras and an annoying rant on the Partitioning of Poland from Feuilly.**

**~ Class **


	20. Chapter 20

**Wow... It's been a while, huh? Well, this chapter may be one of the last few; this chapter contains the arrival of Aurèle Maximelien, named partially after Maximelien Robespierre... (It was all Enjy's idea, if you remember...)**

* * *

Springtime was a time of renewal, a time of warmth and joy. For Enjolras, it was the first spring of his second term as president. For Jacqueline it meant spending time in the garden with Marianne and Patria. And for all of them, it meant the arrival of the newest member of their family on April 17th. Aurèle Maximelien was born early in the morning; a tiny thing, barely six pounds. Like his father and sister, he too had blonde hair. But unlike Marianne, Aurèle only had a little tuft of blonde hair on the top of his head.

"He looks like a baby ducky," Marianne remarked on first seeing him. Jacqueline laughed and smiled down at the sleeping baby in her arms, whose face was scrunched in a way that did make him resemble a duck. "I fink I'm gonna call him Aurie. It's easier." And so little Aurèle was dubbed "Aurie", and he was referred to as such as an older child. Marianne was already wrapped around his little finger; she adored him completely. Enjolras too was in complete adoration of the newest addition to their family; he introduced the little boy to Les Amis a few days after the child's birth. Jehan commented on how tiny he was, and Courfeyrac discovered that although the baby was rather small, he was quite strong. Aurie, possibly curious about the shade that was a lock of Courfeyrac's hair, grabbed it and gave it a good pull before sticking it in his mouth. Combeferre, who had delivered Aurie, was amused by his curiosity, something rare in someone so young.

Jacqueline rested for the weeks after giving birth, then began to return to working around the house. Although they had servants, Jacqueline preferred to do some of the chores, like Marianne and Aurie's laundry, or dusting the wooden furniture, like the tables and bookshelves. She also began to sew again, and discovered she was decent at it. One of the maids helped her on Saturdays with it, and Jacqueline soon made a couple of lovely little dresses for Marianne, and - although it was atypical - she had made a few pairs of little trousers for Aurie and little shirts and jackets. Many older women in Paris had a fit that she was dressing him like an older boy; but women Jacqueline's age adored the cute little outfits and began to copy them. Marianne's little dresses were the norm and were approved of by the women of society that constantly called on the family by the time Aurie was about a month old.

Marianne was the perfect older sister, constantly looking over Aurie, paying attention to him all the time, and playing with him as he got older. The two of them were always together, and Marianne's favorite activity with him was to push him around in his stroller; but after the events that had taken place during Marianne's infancy, she was much more cautious about how far she allowed them to go. So the two usually were in the garden, within view of Jacqueline's watchful gaze.

By the time summer came, Aurie was beginning to babble, and was even more curious than he had been. His big blue eyes missed nothing, and because he was constantly outside with Marianne and Jacqueline, he loved to be in the garden. There were days when he would cry because he was being taken inside. But he was a darling all the same, and everyone loved him to no end. Grantaire called him "_Enjolras miniatures_", because he resembled his papa almost perfectly. Courfeyrac called him "Young Master Enjolras" and spoiled the child. The Amis all loved the child as if he were their own son.

Around Marianne's birthday, however, her father began to tire. He complained of constant migraines, and had circles under his eyes. He couldn't sleep, and ate very little. Jacqueline grew concerned, but Combeferre told her that he was perfectly healthy.

"I think," Combeferre told her, "he needs a vacation." Jacqueline began to think.

"Alright... Which palace did he keep, anyway? He mentioned having one left," she said. Combeferre pulled out a map from his coat pocket and unfolded it. He examined it for a moment then looked up with a slight smile. He adjusted his glasses and folded the map up, placing it back into his pocket.

"He kept Versailles," Combeferre answered. Jacqueline's face lit up. She had heard about Versailles as a little girl and had always dreamt of wandering the Hall of Mirrors and seeing the Queen's Apartments. But in some ways, she was amused by the fact that of all the palaces belonging to the French monarchy, Enjolras kept the one that most symbolized the French Monarchy (in Jacqueline's opinion).

"Well I might have to bring up a visit to there to him," she stated. "Thank you, Combeferre."

Jacqueline brought up the idea over supper that evening, while Marianne was playing with her dinner. Enjolras approved of the plan, and the next day they began to pack for a week or two at Versailles. Marianne packed the majority of her dolls to take, while Jacqueline made sure she had enough dresses and little hair ribbons to last the two weeks they were to be out of town. Aurie's little outfits were folded and delicately placed in a little trunk for the boy. A bassinet also sent ahead to be placed in one of the bedrooms, and would be moved if necessary. One of the maids packed for Jacqueline and Enjolras. Everything was sent ahead and the family departed a few days after the things had been sent.

Marianne bounced in her seat the entire way, babbling about getting to see a real "castle" and asking if Prince Charming lived there. Aurie slept in Jacqueline's lap, and she absentmindedly stroked his growing blonde curls. Enjolras read quietly to himself, anticipating their arrival at Versailles.

"I'm so excited," Jacqueline mumbled. "I used to dream of wandering around Versailles as a little girl..."

"As am I. I think we've earned this vacation."

* * *

**And I'm leaving it there! Oh, and welcome to my new followers! Feel free to make yourselves heard; I don't bite, I promise!**

**Review?**

**~ TheClassof1832**


	21. Chapter 21

**Ah the Versailles chapter! I am looking forward to this, as I am drawing inspiration from M. Hugo and giving a background on the famous palace at the beginning of the chapter, then going to our little presidential family at the end.**

* * *

The author of this singular work would now like to part from the current plot to inform you, the reader, of the history of the palace that our hero and his family are currently en route to.

The Palace of Versailles began as a humble hunting lodge, used by Louis XIII, the land which had been owned by a naturalized Florentine. It should be noted that the palace is not actually a palace, but a chateau. Its structure and grounds were developed by Louis XIV, and was the center of power for the French Monarchy. The earliest mentioning of Versailles dates back to 1038, in a document about the village of Versailles. Louis XIII's hunting lodge was built there in 1624. He later proceeded to purchase the rest of the area and expand the chateau. But it is Louis XIV who is credited with the expansion of the chateau, making it one of Europe's grandest palaces. He also made it one of the largest in Europe. In 1672, Louis began to move his court to the palace, and by 1682, his court was completely established at Versailles. The palace was then modified several times; the most notable possibly being the second, with the adding of the _grands appartements_; the _grand appartement du roi, _and the _grand appartement de la reine_. Louis XIV's final building projects were the royal chapel, and a few additions to the King's Apartments. The Salon d'Hercule was completed by Louis XV after Louis XIV's death, and Petit Trianon was also completed under Louis XV. The palace has remained fairly unchanged from that time, except for the fact that many of the furnishings from the time of the ancient regime had long been sold. Napoleon had had the palace refurnished, and the said furnishings were the ones awaiting the presidential family.

This brief history lesson aside, the Palace of Versailles is, indeed, a grand structure, and was quite spectacular and glorious. Those were the first thoughts of Enjolras as the cabriolet journeyed down the drive, the shining palace looming in the distance. He quickly brushed the thought aside; him! gawking like a child at the SYMBOL of the French Monarchy! It was completely laughable! Ridiculous! But as he looked out over the vast grounds, and gazed at the gleaming windows and intimidating facade, he had to admit: it seemed like QUITE the way to live. The palace back in Paris had nothing on Versailles; the beautiful residence gleamed, glistened, and shined like no other. It was not just a marvel of Monarchical society, but of France ITSELF. And the closer they came, the more Enjolras' heart secretly fluttered. He would not admit this; not even to Jacqueline, whose eyes were as wide as saucers as she admired the beautiful structure . Little Marianne, too, seemed completely in awe. The only two members of the family who seemed unaware were Patria the dog, who was asleep in her open basket, and Aurèle, who was fast asleep in his mother's arms.

"How... breathtaking," Jacqueline sighed, as if the mere sight of the palace genuinely took her breath away. Marianne nodded.

"It'th bootiful, mama," Marianne agreed. Enjolras smiled softly, but did not agree.

"Well," he stated as the cabriolet came to a stop at the steps of the palace, "it IS rather spectacular for a monument to monarchical society. But it has nothing on the wonders of free healthcare, homeless shelters, and public school buildings! Those are the things that make a modern world function! And a strong constitution! I'd like to see old Louis write one of those from the grave!" He chuckled good-naturedly and climbed out, then waited for the rest of his family to exit as he had during his little comments. Jacqueline was the last to emerge, holding a now awake and alert Aurie, who was enraptured by the gardens. Marianne had already tumbled out, with Patria, and was now chasing the puppy around.

"Darling, you must admit, the palace is gorgeous," Jacqueline told Enjolras. "It's stunning!" Aurie shrieked in agreement. Jacqueline kissed his head. "Is someone supposed to meet us? Or are we to go inside first?" Enjolras began to answer her, but was interrupted when a maid appeared coming down the steps.

"Hello, Madame and Monsieur Enjolras!" she called. "Welcome to Versailles! I am Madame Latour, the Head Housekeeper of the residence. Your things arrived just before you did! Madame, you will be staying in the Queen's Apartments, and you, Monsieur, will be staying in the King's Apartments. The children's beds have been placed in the Queen's Apartments as well." Jacqueline thanked her and allowed her to lead them all inside. Madame Latour then gave them a tour of the palace before showing them finally to their chambers.

Enjolras didn't bother to admire his rooms, and quickly settled in a chair in one of the sitting rooms with a book. He intended to follow a lighter version of his usual schedule, and normally around noon he was prone to enjoying a good book for a while before joining his family for lunch. Jacqueline, on the other hand, was in complete and utter awe of her rooms, and put the children down for a nap after they explored the chambers. Jacqueline found herself unable to sleep; the palace was almost too grand for her. She sat down on her bed, and gingerly touched the lavish bedding. She then got up and wandered over to her vanity table, which was laden with cosmetics, perfumes, and hair things; everything a woman would ever need. She then crossed over to the armoire to find her trunk resting on the floor next to it, opened, with her dresses neatly laid out. Inside the armoire were more dresses of an older fashion, but were still amazingly beautiful.

"This is too much," Jacqueline mumbled. "I should have never joined him here..."

* * *

**So now Jacqueline's getting overwhelmed by Versailles. Poor dear... **

**This story will be over soon! I don't know how I'll end it, but it might only have three or four more chapters! Thank you for reading!**

**~Class**

**Review? **


	22. Chapter 22

**Ah, this is the last chapter of Monsieur le Président, regrettably. But do not be concerned! DonJuana and I are currently workshopping a new story, with... A NEW OC! Read the bottom AN for a sneak preview of "Dr. Combeferre and M. Enjolras". (Bonus points if you can guess the story/musical this is based off!)**

* * *

But the Presidential family soon settled into life at Versailles; Jacqueline and the children spent most of their time in the gardens, though Marianne also loved to sit in the library with her mother, listening to her soothing voice as she read to her. Aurie took those times to begin to sit up, and babble. Jacqueline constantly said that he had the "Enjolras brains", for he was so energetic and determined to talk. Even if no one understood him. Chretien too was amused by Aurie's "speeches", and constantly was talking to the little boy, encouraging him to continue doing so.

"When's he gonna actually say sumthin?" Marianne asked as the summer came to a close. Jacqueline smiled and laughed a bit.

"Soon, ma petite, soon. That's why we have to be good about talking with him and telling him things. It'll make him smarter," she told the little girl. Marianne nodded and sat next to Aurie, telling him about how they would be going home very soon.

"We'll be able to see Uncle Courfy, and Ferre, and Taire, and Jolllly!" she giggled. "I can't wait to see dem! Eeder can papa..."

Enjolras couldn't wait to return to Paris, but he soon wanted to retire. He would like to settle down, regrettably, and raise his family. He had spent a great portion of his life working toward the improvement of society, and he finally felt that the nation he loved so much was finally in good hands. His wish was for Combeferre to run for office after he backed down. Enjolras figured Combeferre wouldn't run; Combeferre was much too private of a man to step into the public eye in that way. He had told Jacqueline of his intentions and she approved of the plan, though she didn't want him to have to give up something he loved for his family. "If it means that much to you," she had said, "you shouldn't give it up." But did it really mean that much to him? It was a spectacular title to be sure; and it was an honor to be the first president of France, but he didn't need all that power. All he wanted was to help the people. And he could do that without being the president.

"When will you tell the Amis?" Jacqueline inquired on their last night at Versailles. Enjolras sighed and climbed under the covers of her bed (despite the fact that he was SUPPOSED to be sleeping in the King's Bedchambers).

"I have already sent them a letter. They should have received it by now," he told her. "And I will announce it to the Convention the same day we return home. Then, we will find a new home and settle in as a modest family." Jacqueline sighed and snuggled into his side. He wrapped an arm around her.

"That sounds wonderful," she sighed. "But won't you miss it, love? The excitement, the speaking?" Enjolras sighed.

"I will. But... I think I'm going to write a book; document the revolution and the like for future generations..." Jacqueline smiled up at him and began to nod off. He kissed the top of her head and eventually nodded off as well.

The next day, Enjolras was standing in front of the National Convention, speaking to his fellow countrymen.

"... It is with greatest regret that I stand before you today, informing you of my resignation from the office of the presidency. I was honored to serve as your president, and cannot wait to serve the country in different forms. My wife and I intend to remain in Paris, where I plan to work as a lawyer to provide for our family. And, if my right-hand-man would be so kind, I would like Combeferre to consider running in my place next election. If, of course, the kind gentlemen of this Convention will have him," he chuckled. "My family will be removed from the Palais-Presidentiel by the end of this month. And my Secretary of State, Rafael Courfeyrac, will serve in my place until the next election. And so, I bid you all farewell, and thank you all for helping establish a well-deserved democracy." He finished his speech and walked out of the building, going back to the presidential palace.

Once the thirty days were up, Jacqueline, Enjolras, Marianne and Aurèle moved to a small but comfortable home on l'Rue Plumet. The children's rooms were all arranged, and the larger bedroom was prepared for Enjolras and Jacqueline. Their first night home, Jacqueline made a nice meal, and she toasted to a good and prosperous life in their new home. Enjolras was finally at ease, and was all smiles the whole night. When he went to bed that night, he slept the best he had in four years. Jacqueline did as well, completely and utterly at peace, and was quite content that he had finally settled down. The next morning, Enjolras got up first, and got the children ready for the day. When Jacqueline woke up, she found the children in their spots at the table, dressed, and Enjolras was cooking.

"My!" she exclaimed. "I sleep in a half hour and husband has the children dressed and is making breakfast! What has happened?" Enjolras chuckled and brought over a plate of crepes and sliced fruit.

"I thought it would be a great way to start our new life," he told her. "It'll take some adjusting, but I think I'll enjoy this a lot!"

"What a great thought, Monsieur le Président!" she gently kissed his cheek and smiled.

* * *

**And that's the end! And, as promised, here is a little preview of "Dr. Combeferre and M. Enjolras"**:

- "I've done it!" Combeferre cried. "I think I have finally created a serum that will cure a person of... their demons, so to speak. But I will need a guinea pig." The Amis all looked around. "I will need a man who is sober, respectable, and in good health." Courfeyrac chortled.

"Count most of us out then!" he exclaimed. Combeferre frowned, and looked to Enjolras.

"Enjolras, I was hoping you would do it," he said calmly. "I'm sure NOTHING will go wrong."


End file.
